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THE  CONQUEST 

THIRD  EDITION 


BY  SIDNEY  L.  NYBURG 


THE  FINAL  VERDICT 

SIX  STORIES  OP  MEN  AND  WOMEN 
$l.OO  net 

"The  name  of  Sidney  L.  Nyburg  is  new  to 
me,  but  after  reading  *The  Final  Verdict,'  I 
shall  keep  a  lookout  for  anything  else  he  may 
write.  The  book  consists  of  six  short  stories, 
based  upon  a  lawyer's  experiences,  and  dealing 
with  the  claims  of  the  individual  as  opposed  to 
those  of  society  ....  The  stories  are  all  well 
written,  interesting  and  instinct  with  the  com- 
prehensiveness of  one  who  knows  whereof  he 
writes." — James  L.  Ford,  in  the  N.  Y.  Herald, 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  PHILADELPHIA 


THE  CONQUEST 


BY 


SIDNEY  L.  NYBURG 


"All  thisl~All  this~and~and--what  for?" 
"That's  where  the  fun  comes  in." 

— Galsworthy's  "Strife" 


PHILADELPHIA  AND  LONDON 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

1916 


COPYRIGHT,   1916,  BY  J.   B.  LIPPIRCOTT  COMPAISTT 


PUBLISHBD      JANUARY.      I916 


^ 


PRINTED  BY  J.   B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUARE  PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA.  U.  S.  A. 


To 
H.  L.  N. 


336830 


CONTENTS 

BOOK    I  PAGE 

The  Plan  of  Battle,  a.d.  1892 9 

BOOK  II 
The  Heat  of  Battle,  a.d.  1898 91 

BOOK  III 
The  Spoils  of  Battle,  a.d.  1913 iS9 


BOOK  I 

THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE,  A.D.  1892 


THE  CONQUEST 


**  Gen-tlemen  of  the  jury,  you  will  now  retire  and 
consider  what  your  verdict  shall  be/' 

The  clerk  of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  repeated 
the  time-honored  formula  in  world-weary  tones.  He 
felt,  apparently,  a  sense  of  personal  injury,  because  the 
case  had  been  given  to  the  jury  at  this  unseemly  hour 
of  the  late  afternoon.  Even  if  an  agreement  were 
reached  promptly,  he  would  be  late  in  getting  home,  and 
he  showed  his  displeasure  in  each  tone  and  accent. 

The  papers  in  the  case  were  hastily  thrust  into  the 
hands  of  the  foreman,  and  with  much  shuffling  of  feet 
and  stretching  of  arms  and  legs,  the  twelve  good  men 
and  true  filed  out  of  the  dingy  court-room  to  complete 
their  sworn  duty,  "  a  true  verdict  to  find,  according  to 
the  law  and  the  evidence,  upon  the  issues  joined  be- 
tween the  State  of  Maryland,  to  the  use  of  Annie  Flynn, 
plaintiff,  and  Thomas  J.  Martin,  defendant." 

If  the  white-haired  judge  shared  the  clerk's  impa- 
tience, he  was  certainly  more  adept  in  the  concealment 
of  his  mood.  He  prided  himself  somewhat  on  being 
a  philosopher.  To  listen  daily  to  tedious  details  and  to 
do  his  part  in  sifting  out  of  much  falsehood  and  irrele- 


.••..:•;  ;• :  ••        THE  CONQUEST 

vance  some  few  grains  of  truth,  was  his  daily  duty. 
He  felt  a  certain  pride  in  doing  this  work  unusually 
well,  and  in  a  detached  and  impersonal  fashion,  the 
result  to  be  reached  in  this  particular  case  rather  inter- 
ested him. 

"  Mr.  Thomas,"  he  whispered  to  the  clerk,  "  I  am 
going  to  my  room  to  read  and  smoke  a  cigar.  Call  me 
if  the  jury  should  agree." 

"  Yes,  Your  Honor,"  the  clerk  answered.  He  had 
indulged  a  faint  hope  that  the  judge  would  order  the 
verdict  to  be  sealed,  and  the  jury  dismissed  until  next 
morning.  Then  everyone  might  have  gone  home ;  but 
the  whims  of  judges,  like  those  of  the  weather,  were 
to  be  borne  without  audible  protest. 

If  there  was  an  air  of  patient  sufferance  or  inter- 
ested detachment  among  the  court  officers,  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  the  parties  to  the  suit,  their  friends  and  their 
counsel,  were  animated  by  no  such  calm  sentiments. 
The  very  air  was  tense  with  excitement.  Annie  Flynn, 
the  plaintiff,  a  raw-boned,  florid  woman,  clad  in  widow's 
weeds,  and  seemingly  most  uncomfortable  in  such  stiff 
and  formal  attire,  had  evidently  been  crying.  Her  un- 
attractive features  still  worked  convulsively,  as  she 
seemed  to  stifle  threatened  sobs,  and  her  big,  red  hands 
twitched  nervously  now  and  then.  The  defendant, 
Martin,  a  slender,  well-dressed  man  of  less  than  thirty- 
five  years,  sat  beside  his  wife,  murmuring  to  her,  now 
and  then,  words  of  encouragement.     She  was  still 

12 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

young,  and  retained  vivid  traces  of  a  beauty,  now 
sadly  faded.  It  was  easy  to  read  in  her  face  and 
figure  that  this  trial  had  been  only  the  last  of  a  long 
series  of  strains,  which  had  tried  her  soul.  Even  James 
Nelson,  the  veteran  lawyer  of  the  city,  who  had  ap- 
peared for  the  defendant,  seemed  a  bit  shaken.  It  was 
a  doubtful  case,  surely.  He  had  spent  three  grilling 
days  in  its  trial,  and  who  could  tell  what  a  jury  would 
do?  He  certainly  had  never  expected  that  Howard 
boy, — a  fledgling,  just  out  of  law  school, — to  put  up 
such  a  fight. 

"  The  Howard  boy " — who  was  really  about 
twenty- four  years  old — was  leaning  back  in  his  chair 
at  the  trial  table,  in  an  attitude  of  complete  exhaustion. 
It  was  difficult  to  be  sure  whether  he  was  really  calm, 
or  merely  controlling  an  intense  nervous  excitement 
with  that  deadly  horror  of  betraying  emotion,  common 
to  all  young  men.  When  his  client  spoke  to  him,  he 
answered  her  in  curt,  impatient  monosyllables.  He 
was  tired  physically  as  well  as  mentally.  He  had  been 
talking  in  low,  intense  tones  to  that  jury  for  over  an 
hour.  One  might  have  thought  his  speech  no  more 
labored  than  casual  conversation,  had  he  not  shown  in 
each  line  of  his  strong  young  body  his  utter  weariness. 

The  old  lawyer,  in  the  course  of  his  wanderings 
up  and  down  the  room,  paused  beside  the  chair  of  "  the 
Howard  boy "  and  slapped  him  cordially  on  the 
shoulder. 

13 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  Well,  Howard,"  he  announced  in  an  oracular 
tone,  **  I  should  say  they'll  be  out  about  an  hour." 
The  young  man  nodded.  He  seemed  to  have  talked 
himself  out  in  the  conduct  of  the  trial. 

The  older  man  had  talked  louder  and  longer  than 
his  young  colleague,  and  not  once,  but  many  times, 
had  torn  a  passion  into  tatters,  but  he  was  neither  tired 
nor  inclined  towards  silence.  *'  You  made  a  great 
fight,  Howard,"  he  conceded  cheerfully.  ''  I  don't 
know  where  you  learned  all  your  trial  generalship. 
This  is  your  first  case,  isn't  it  ?  " 

The  young  man  nodded  again  and  Nelson  talked 
on,  without  any  need  for  encouragement. 

"  None  of  us  can  afford  to  underrate  you  after 
this.  That  is  where  I  made  my  mistake.  I  thought 
Judge  Carey  would  take  this  case  from  the  jury  on 
the  first  day;  and  he  would  have,  too,  if  you  hadn't 
sprung  that  Massachusetts  decision  on  him.  And  that 
evidence  of  the  architect!  I  don't  see  now  how  you 
ever  got  it  into  the  record.  In  a  few  years,  you  are 
going  to  be  one  of  the  most  dangerous  men  at  the 
Bar." 

John  Howard  was  not  impervious  to  flattery.  Not 
many  men  of  twenty-four  are,  and  Nelson,  though 
old-fashioned,  was  certainly  one  of  the  best  lawyers 
in  the  city.  In  spite  of  his  inward  conviction  that  the 
old  man  was  merely  trying  to  minister  to  his  vanity, 
the  youth  thawed  perceptibly. 

14 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

''  You  can  afford  to  be  generous,  sir,"  he  answered, 
smiling  as  he  spoke.  "  I  had  a  strong  case.  If  we'd 
changed  clients,  you'd  have  seen  how  poor  a  contest 
I  should  have  made." 

"  Nonsense,"  Nelson  retorted  emphatically,  "  your 
case  was  so  weak,  I  never  took  it  seriously.  A  plumber 
comes  into  a  furniture  warehouse  to  fix  a  broken  water 
pipe.  An  hour  later,  he  is  found  dead  at  the  foot  of  an 
elevator  shaft.  Where  is  your  evidence  of  negligence? 
None.  Where  is  your  connection  between  the  condition 
of  our  premises  and  your  man's  accident?  Not  a  ves- 
tige. But  you  piece  together  a  bit  here  and  a  chance 
word  there  and,  by  and  by,  you  have  dragged  an  infer- 
ence into  the  case,  like  a  magician  pulls  a  live  rabbit 
from  his  silk  hat ;  and  you  cite  authorities  for  it,  too ! 
If  your  client  gets  a  verdict,  it  will  be  your  fault — ^pure 
and  simple." 

The  Howard  boy  continued  to  display  an  unaffected 
pleasure  in  his  opponent's  genial  compliments.  Nor 
was  Nelson  slow  to  notice  the  impression  he  had  made. 

**  To  be  sure,"  he  went  on  suavely,  "  nobody  can  tell 
what  a  jury  will  do.  I  can't,  after  all  these  years,  and 
you  surely  can't ;  but  an  old  lawyer  like  myself,  or  like 
the  judge,  for  that  matter,  can  recognize  good  work 
when  he  sees  it.  You've  a  great  future  before  you,  boy ! 
Of  course,"  Nelson  continued,  "  even  if  you  should  get 
a  good-sized  verdict,  old  man  Carey  may  pare  it  down, 
and  whether  the  Court  of  Appeals  will  sustain  his  rul- 

15 


THE  CONQUEST 

ings  on  the  evidence,  only  the  Lord  knows,  but  these 
things  don't  take  away  any  of  the  credit  of  what  you've 
done.  Now,"  he  interjected  suddenly — ^as  though  the 
idea  had  just  occurred  to  him,  instead  of  having  been 
carefully  introduced  by  his  long  prelude^ — "  what  would 
you  say  to  side-stepping  all  the  uncertainty  of  this  jury's 
verdict,  and  the  motion  for  a  new  trial  and  the  appeal  ? 
If  you're  in  a  reasonable  mood,  maybe  we  can  get  to- 
gether. How  would  fifteen  hundred  in  cash  appeal  to 
you?" 

The  young  man  instantly  lost  his  expression  of  re- 
laxation, and  intense  watchful  rigidity  appeared  once 
more  in  his  face,  his  figure  and  his  voice.  He  was  no 
longer  the  flattered  boy.  He  was  the  cold,  almost 
cynical,  man  of  business. 

"  I'd  say  it  was  impossible,  Mr.  Nelson,"  he  rapped 
out  decisively,  "  we'll  win  or  lose  a  clean-cut  fight.  The 
Court  of  Appeals  can't  reverse  this  verdict.  Such  a  sum 
as  you  offer,  when  a  man  has  been  killed,  is  too  much  or 
it's  too  little." 

"Ah,  but  your  client  may  not  think  as  you  do," 
Nelson  suggested,  skilfully  raising  his  voice  until  Annie 
Flynn  could  not  fail  to  hear  him.  "  She  may  think  an 
old  man's  guess  is  better  than  a  young  one's  assurance. 
Fifteen  hundred  dollars!" — (he  drew  the  words  out 
slowly  and  lovingly;  in  his  round  tones,  they  really 
seemed  to  indicate  almost  twice  as  large  a  sum)  "  fif- 
teen hundred  dollars  may  not  seem  so  paltry  to  her." 

i6 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

Nor  did  it.  Annie  Flynn,  since  her  husband's  death, 
had  counted  it  a  lucky  week  when  she  made  six  dollars, 
and  she  approached  the  trial  table  with  fascinated  eyes. 

John  Howard  sat  erect  in  his  chair  and  faced  both 
Nelson  and  his  half -rebellious  client  with  the  look  of  a 
man  who  knows  exactly  what  he  wants  and  who  in- 
tends to  get  it. 

"  My  client/'  he  announced,  in  the  low  vibrant 
voice  he  had  used  to  the  jury,  *'  has  placed  this  matter 
in  my  hands,  and  whether  she  wants  it  or  not,  I  shall 
not  allow  her  to  throw  away  her  chance  of  a  decent 
verdict.  I  won't  have  it.  Eight  thousand  dollars  is 
the  least  sum  we'll  take, — not  one  penny  less !  " 

"  But,  Mr.  Howard," — ^the  woman  began  timidly. 

"Sit  down,  Mrs.  Flynn,"  Howard  ordered  peremp- 
torily. "  Mr.  Nelson  wouldn't  be  offering  you  fifteen 
hundred  if  he  didn't  feel  sure  the  jury  in  the  next  room 
was  going  to  give  you  a  great  deal  more.  You  let  me 
manage  this  matter !  " 

The  woman  shrank  back  to  her  seat  again,  com- 
pletely cowed,  even  if  she  was  not  thoroughly  con- 
vinced, and  Howard  turned  rather  sharply  to  his  older 
colleague. 

"  Mr.  Nelson,"  he  stated,  "  I  hope  you  and  I  will 
try  many  cases  against  each  other  from  time  to  time. 
Please,  in  the  future,  don't  try  to  lead  my  clients  to 
disregard  my  advice.  You  may  recall  something  about 
such  conduct  in  the  Code  of  Legal  Ethics."    The  older 

17 


THE  CONQUEST 

man  grew  red  with  mortification.  What  he  had  done 
could  have  been  excused  only  in  the  event  of  success, 
and  certainly  he  had  not  succeeded. 

''  I  was  really  trying  to  do  you  a  good  turn,"  he 
muttered. 

"  I  don't  want  any  good  turns.  I  mean  to  do  things 
my  own  way.  If  Mrs.  Flynn  had  insisted  on  taking 
you  seriously,"  Howard  went  on  quietly,  "  I  should 
have  walked  straight  into  the  judge's  study  and  have 
told  him  exactly  what  had  happened." 

Nelson  looked  at  him  for  a  minute  with  a  puzzled 
expression.  By  all  his  reckonings,  Howard  should 
have  been  in  a  blaze  of  anger;  but  he  seemed  totally 
free  from  passion.  He  might  have  been  talking  about 
someone  else's  problem.  The  older  man  realized,  in  a 
half  baffled  way,  that  this  young  Howard  was  a  bit 
odd.    It  would  be  difficult  to  manage  him. 

"  Well,"  he  finally  conceded,  "  perhaps  I  did  do 
what  I  should  not  have  done.     I'm  sorry." 

The  Howard  boy  took  the  proffered  h^nd  and 
smiled  genially. 

"  I  don't  really  blame  you,"  he  said,  "  for  trying  to 
pull  your  client  out  of  his  dilemma.  I  suppose  it's  part 
of  the  game,  and,  after  all,  this  case  is  only  an  incident 
for  you.  But  for  me,  it's  my  great  chance,  and  I  don't 
intend  that  anyone — not  you,  nor  Mrs.  Flynn,  nor  the 
judge  himself — shall  snatch  it  from  me." 


x8 


II 

The  short  winter  afternoon  drew  toward  an  end. 
There  came  a  minute — most  illogically  and  suddenly — 
when  it  seemed  to  be  generally  recognized  that  the 
jury  had  been  deliberating  a  long  time.  Nelson  took 
Mr.  Martin  by  the  arm  and  suggested  a  walk  up  and 
down  the  court-house  pavement. 

"A  bit  of  fresh  air  and  a  whiff  of  tobacco  won't 
hurt  either  of  us,"  he  announced. 

The  defendant  seemed  unwilling  to  abandon  his 
tired  young  wife  to  keep  her  lonely  vigil,  but  she  urged 
him  to  go,  with  a  tremulous  smile.  It  was  clear  that 
the  trial  had  played  sad  havoc  with  the  nerves  of  both 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Martin. 

Mrs.  Flynn  sat  dejectedly  in  her  chair.  It  was  not 
her  habit  to  permit  herself  to  hope  for  anything  good. 
It  was  her  wont  to  prepare  herself  studiously  for  the 
worst,  and  she  had  rarely  been  disappointed.  In  this 
spirit  she  had  married,  and  her  lord  and  master  had 
treated  her  with  no  greater  tenderness  than  she  had 
expected.  In  this  spirit,  too,  she  had  predicted  disaster 
to  the  bold  Flynn  through  all  the  four  years  of  their 
married  bliss.  She  had  only  been  amazed  because  the 
catastrophe  had  been  delayed  so  long  in  its  coming. 
After  his  death,  she  knew  she  would  have  a  hard  time 

19 


THE  CONQUEST 

making  enough  to  live  on  and  to  feed  the  two  children, 
and  when  the  idea  of  a  law  suit  was  suggested  to  her, 
she  knew  it  wouldn't  amount  to  anything.  Now,  her 
worst  surmises  were  about  to  be  realized.  If  this  young 
sprig  of  a  lawyer  had  been  less  impudent  to  Mr.  Nelson, 
whom  everybody  knew  to  be  a  fine  lawyer,  and  old 
enough  to  be  this  one's  father  into  the  bargain,  they 
might  have  given  her  something.  Now,  even  that  hope 
was  shattered.  Poor  folk  got  poor  people  to  serve 
them,  and  that  was  the  truth.  If  she  had  been  rich, 
she'd  have  had  a  lawyer  to  make  a  great,  fine  speech, 
to  be  cried  over  properly, — not  mere  sober  talk,  such 
as  this  lad  used.  Still,  she  would  stay  to  the  end,  as 
long  as  she  was  here. 

Many  of  the  other  men  and  women  in  the  court- 
room proved  to  be  less  curious.  It  was  verging  peril- 
ously near  to  supper  time — not  the  late  dinner  hour 
of  to-day,  but  the  hour  of  the  evening  meal  of  those 
days  in  the  early  "  Nineties,"  when  unfashionable  folk, 
and  not  a  few  fashionable  ones,  dined  lavishly  at  noon, 
and  supped  less  sumptuously  at  six.  One  by  one,  the 
spectators  acknowledged  the  prior  claim  of  appetite 
over  that  of  mere  intellectual  curiosity.  The  room, 
densely  crowded  at  the  end  of  the  trial,  became  almost 
empty  now.  Here  and  there  a  newspaper  man  re- 
mained, annoyed,  but  philosophically  realizing  only  too 
well  his  inability  to  escape  from  his  post  until  the 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

accursed  jury  agreed,  or  recognized  its  inability  ever 
to  agree. 

Soon  the  bailiff  moved  from  side  to  side  of  the  room 
painfully  and  laboriously  lighting  each  gas  jet.  For  in 
the  year  of  grace  1892,  the  conservative  administra- 
tion of  justice  would  have  looked  askance  at  anything 
so  radical  as  the  electric  light.  The  dusk  was  drowned 
in  a  pale  yellow  glimmer,  not  brilliant  enough  to  make 
the  place  seem  cheerful,  and  yet  nqt  dim  enough  to  lend 
a  charm  to  the  surrounding  gloom.  The  lighting  of 
the  gas  jets  promptly  blotted  out  whatever  of  dignity 
might  have  existed  in  the  bare  room.  Not  that  there 
was  much.  The  old  court-house  seemed  to  be  await- 
ing in  patient  despair  the  certain  coming  of  an  era  of 
splendid  and  spacious  quarters,  with  a  glamour  of 
polished  marble  and  many  hued  mural  paintings.  The 
time  seemed  so  near  at  hand,  though  not  yet  come, 
that  it  was  hardly  worth  while  buying  a  pretty  gown 
for  this  withered  old  crone  of  a  building. 

The  lighting  of  the  lamps  seemed  to  arouse  John 
Howard  from  his  reverie.  Ever  since  he  had  repulsed 
the  insidious  attack  of  Mr.  Nelson  and  stifled  Annie 
Flynn's  feeble  effort  to  have  some  voice  in  the  decision 
of  her  own  destiny,  he  had  been  sitting — silent  and 
motionless — at  the  trial  table.  He  might  have  read 
law,  for  the  table  was  strewn  with  books.  He  might 
have  chatted  with  the  bailiff  or  the  clerk,  both  of  whom 
made  unsuccessful  overtures  in  his  direction,  but  he  did 

21 


THE  CONQUEST 

neither.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  tell  from  watch- 
ing him  just  what  he  was  feeling,  if  anything  at  all. 
He  was  trying  hard  to  seem  absolutely  unmoved,  and 
he  was  succeeding  fairly  well.  Perhaps  he  was  play- 
ing the  part  of  the  inscrutable  man  of  iron  so  per- 
fectly that  a  seasoned  observer  would  have  found  no 
difficulty  in  discovering  his  apparent  calm  to  be  flimsy 
sham ;  but  then,  there  was  no  seasoned  observer  watch- 
ing him.  There  were  a  few  newspaper  reporters, 
but  for  them  the  bare  facts  of  the  case  consti- 
tuted all  the  story  they  proposed  to  print,  or  to  think 
about.  If  any  one  of  them  chanced  to  waste  a  surmise 
upon  John  Howard,  he  vaguely  catalogued  him  as  a 
young  prig  and  proceeded  to  mourn  once  more  for  the 
delayed  supper. 

When  the  lights  were  lit,  Howard  arose  from  his 
chair  and  strolled  absently  toward  the  court-room  door. 
He  would  have  wandered  out  into  the  dark  corridor 
had  not  his  attention  been  arrested  by  the  crash  of  glass 
just  beside  him. 

Mrs.  Martin,  the  defendant's  wife,  had  suddenly 
felt  faint  and  ill  after  her  long  day  of  nervous  strain 
and  suspense.  In  the  hope  that  water  would  revive  her, 
she  had  crossed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  to  fill 
her  glass.  As  she  had  raised  it  to  her  lips,  it  had 
slipped  from  her  unsteady  fingers  to  the  floor  and  in 
her  startled  weakness  she,  too,  might  have  faMen,  had 
not  John  Howard  hurried  to  her  assistance. 

22 


THE  PLAN  OF  BAITLE 

'*  Won't  you  accept  a  bit  of  help  from  the  enemy?  " 
he  asked,  smiling  boyishly,  a^  he  steadied  her  with 
his  arm  and  led  her  back  to  her  place.  He  took  his 
own  glass  from  the  trial  table,  and  filling  it  with  water, 
quickly  brought  it  to  her.  He  fanned  her  for  a  minute 
or  two  with  an  old  newspaper,  hastily  snatched  from  a 
nearby  bench,  lie  did  these  things  so  unobtrusively 
that  Mrs.  Martin's  fears  of  "making  a  scene"  were 
quieted.  She  began  to  take  command  of  herself  again. 
Her  spasm  of  weakness  was  over. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  murmured,  a  little  faintly. 
It  seemed  to  surprise  her  slightly  to  find  him  so  gentle, 
— he  who  had,  only  a  few  hours  before,  spoken  of  her 
husband's  criminal  negligence  in  quiet  but  intense 
words,  which  still  left  scars. 

He  was  young  enough  to  l>e  somewhat  hurt  at  her 
astonishment  in  finding  him,  after  all,  to  be  a  gentle- 
man. He  was  also  young  enough  to  allow  his  discom- 
fiture to  find  expression. 

"  You  mustn't  think,"  he  protested,  "  that  I  do  not 
sympathize  with  you  in  this  trouble.  T  can  see  how 
splendidly  you've  stcx)d  by  your  husband.  Often,  dur- 
ing the  trial,  I  have  wished  the  accident  had  happened 
in  someone  else's  factory." 

**  Why  not  wish  it  had  never  happened  at  all,"  she 
asked,  with  a  feeble  smile,  **  but  I  sui>posc  if  no  one 
ever  got  hurt,  or  had  misfortunes,  your  occupation 
would  be  gone." 


THE  CONQUEST 

He  did  not  smile  at  her  trite  pleasantry.  He  seemed 
eager  to  champion  the  dignity  of  the  profession  of 
which  he  was  still  so  young  a  practitioner. 

*'  If  no  one  were  ever  injured,  or  ill,  the  physician, 
too,  would  go  hungry,  yet  you  think  his  the  noblest  of 
labors." 

There  was  an  enthusiasm  in  his  restrained  but 
forceful  manner  which,  in  spite  of  herself,  appealed  to 
her.  He  was,  she  decided,  notwithstanding  his  cause, 
"  rather  a  nice  boy." 

"  I  wouldn't  think  well  of  my  doctor,  either,"  she 
answered,  "  just  after  he  had  probed  a  wound  of  mine, 
without  giving  me  an  anaesthetic;  and  you  have  hurt 
me  horribly." 

His  face  indicated  genuine  concern.  *^  I  know,*'  he 
admitted  frankly,  "  and  I  am  sorry.  I  had  to  do  it.  I 
was  hoping  all  morning  you  weren't  coming  back  to 
court  this  afternoon  to  hear  my  closing  argimient ;  but 
I  knew  all  the  time  you  wouldn't  shirk.  If  you're 
brave  enough  to  have  gone  through  all  this,  you  must 
be  big  enough  to  see  our  side  of  the  matter.  What 
else  could  I  have  said,  in  justice  to  Mrs.  Flynn?  Don't 
you  see  it  isn't  fair  to  force  her  to  go  through  life  car- 
ing for  her  babies,  without  the  money  her  husband 
would  have  earned  for  her?  It  isn't  fair  to  the  babies, 
either.    Can't  you  see  the  justice  of  her  claim?  " 

"  I  don't  know  just  what  to  think,"  she  replied 
gravely  and  thoughtfully,  "  I  was  never  in  a  court-room 

H 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

before  in  my  life.  I  was  taught  that  courts  were  es- 
tablished to  do  justice  between  man  and  man.  I  ex- 
pected to  hear  you  and  Mr.  Nelson  argue  whether  it 
was  really  my  husband's  fault  which  caused  this  man's 
death,  and  if  it  was,  how  much  his  life  was  really 
worth  to  his  wife.  But  the  trial  has  all  seemed  to  me 
like  an  ugly  game  of  mingled  chance  and  skill.  Mr. 
Nelson  spent  his  time  trying  to  outwit  you,  and  in 
your  quiet  way,  you  tried  to  do  the  same  to  him. 
The  grave,  dignified  old  judge  was  merely  an  umpire, 
to  make  sure  you  played  according  to  the  rules.  For 
three  hours  you  argued  as  to  whether  the  mere  fact  of 
this  poor  woman's  husband  being  found  dead  at  the 
bottom  of  the  elevator  shaft  was  evidence  of  his 
having  blundered  there  in  the  dark,  or  whether  all 
other  possible  explanations  were  excluded.  Everyone 
in  the  court-room  knew  it  must  have  happened  as  you 
contended,  yet  you  and  he  played  with  the  idea  and 
tossed  it  from  one  to  the  other,  and  twisted  it  and  dis- 
sected it.  It  was  all  I  could  do  not  to  jump  up  and  tell 
the  judge  and  jury  we  were  willing  to  admit  what  you 
contended  for.  And  in  the  end,  it  was  decided  as  you 
wanted,  because  thirty  years  ago,  in  Massachusetts, 
some  judge — maybe  not  as  wise  as  this  one — had  said 
something  which  seemed  to  bear  out  your  theory. 
There's  something  grotesque  about  it. 

"  Then  I  expected  Mr.  Nelson  would  prove  that 
thousands  of  elevator  shafts  in  the  city  were  just  as 

9S 


THE  CONQUEST 

dark  as  ours.  When  I  suggested  this,  he  only  smiled 
tolerantly,  and  told  me,  in  a  whisper,  such  testimony 
wouldn't  be  received  at  all.  I  don't  know  what  to 
make  of  your  system. 

"  You  tried  to  prove  this  man  to  have  been  a  thrifty, 
hard-working,  affectionate  husband  and  father,  while 
Mr.  Nelson  did  his  best  to  make  the  jury  believe  he 
was  a  fiend  incarnate,  always  drunk,  always  harsh  to 
his  wife  and  babies.  Both  of  you  knew  he  was,  in  all 
probability,  neither  one  nor  the  other,  but  a  simple, 
ordinary  working  man,  without  any  education — some- 
times kind  and  sometimes  surly,  according  to  the  * 
moods  all  men  have.  You  tried  to  prejudice  the  jury 
against  my  husband,  to  get  a  big  verdict,  when  you 
say  you  think  well  of  me  and,  therefore,  must  know  I 
wouldn't  have  married  him  if  he'd  been  the  kind  of 
man  you  painted.  Mr.  Nelson  talked  evil  of  the  dead, 
and  of  this  pitiful,  stupid  widow,  to  keep  the  jury  from 
giving  her  much.  You're  young.  You  haven't  seen 
very  much  more  of  it  than  I.  Tell  me,  doesn't  it  seem 
odd  to  you  to  decide  the  course  of  whole  human  lives, 
— my  own,  my  husband's,  yours  and  that  woman's — 
in  so  heedless  a  manner  ?  " 

Her  vehemence  troubled  him.  There  sprang  to  his 
lips  the  precepts  his  teachers  had  urged  upon  him  only 
a  few  months  before.  Instinctively,  he  knew  they 
would  have  no  effect  upon  her  attitude  of  passionate 
revolt,  and  yet  he  felt  constrained  to  make  the  attempt. 

26 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

"  Dear  lady,"  he  argued,  "  you  must  see  the  neces- 
sity for  definite  rules  in  the  conduct  of  any  inquiry. 
Were  this  not  so,  justice  would  be  a  matter  of  sheer 
caprice.  Rules  cannot  be  definite  unless  they  are  rigid, 
and  sometimes  a  little  too  technical.  As  for  the  over- 
emphasis both  Mr.  Nelson  and  myself  laid  upon  the 
strength  of  our  own  sides,  and  the  weakness  of  the 
other,  truth  is  best  evolved  in  such  a  way.  The  ex- 
perience of  mankind  has  shown  it.  Human  justice 
cannot  be  wrought  except  in  terms  of  human  weak- 
ness and  error.  The  effort  is  not  to  do  justice  in  every 
case, — for  that  is  impossible, — ^but  to  work  out  a 
scheme  that  shall  do  justice  to  the  greatest  number." 

"Ah,  if  it  did !  "  she  protested,  "  but  does  it,  really? 
It  seems  to  me  you  have  lost  sight  of  the  end  you  seek 
in  a  mass  of  useless  learning.  Whether  you  win  or  we 
do,  justice  has  not  been  done  in  this  case.  Whatever 
that  jury  decides,  somebody's  life  has  been  spoilt." 

His  quick  mind  was  prompt  to  realize  the  futility 
of  trying  to  impose  on  her  the  lawyer's  viewpoint.  He 
hastened  to  turn  their  interchange  of  thought  into 
another  channel. 

"  Is  this  case  really  so  vital  to  you?  "  he  demanded. 
"If  there  is  a  big  verdict  against  you,  will  your  life 
really  be  spoilt  ?  " 

The  expression  of  fear  which  had  been  lurking  in 
her  eyes  now  resumed  full  command  of  her  features. 
"  If  that  jury  really  gives  the  woman  a  large  sum," 

27 


THE  CONQUEST 

she  replied,  "  we'll  " — she  broke  off.  "  I  don't  know 
what  will  become  of  us,"  she  went  on,  with  an  evident 
attempt  to  compose  herself. 

''  You  see  things  have  been  a  struggle  for  us  from 
the  beginning.  Tom  was  only  a  clerk  when  I  married 
him.  My  people  were  afraid  he  wouldn't  be  able  to 
take  care  of  me,  but  I  wasn't  afraid.  I  knew  I  could 
do  without  things.  From  the  first,  we  began  to  save 
everywhere  we  could,  so  that  some  day  Tom  could  have 
a  factory  of  his  own.  We  sacrificed  more  things  than 
I  could  tell  you  of.  All  the  little  pleasures,'  necessities 
even, — sometimes.  It  was  my  venture  as  much  as  his 
— this  business.    I  paid  my  share  to  make  it  possible." 

"  I  can  well  believe  you  did,"  the  yoimg  lawyer 
interjected,  with  undisguised  approval. 

"  It  took  us  five  years,"  she  said  slowly  and  sol- 
emnly. "  Five  years,  thinking  always  of  the  time 
when  Tom  would  be  his  own  master,  and  have  his  own 
chance  to  do  his  work  in  his  own  way,  and  keep  all  of 
the  profits  he  worked  so  hard  to  gain.  I  don't  think  I 
was  ever  so  proud  and  happy  in  all  my  life  as  on  the 
day  he  gave  up  his  clerkship,  and  we  began  to  fit  up  the 
new  factory;  but  then  we  were  only  at  the  beginning 
of  the  task.  The  little  we  had  saved,  and  what  Tom 
had  been  able  to  borrow,  was  not  nearly  enough  capital. 
We  had  been  planning  and  scheming  and  working  to 
make  each  dollar  do  the  work  of  three.  Things  had 
been  getting  a  little  better  every  year,  and  we  were  so 

28 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

happy! — Tom  and  myself  and  our  little  boy.  It  was 
something  we  built  our  very  selves  into, — and  just  then, 
this  accident  came,  and  threatens  to  snatch  it  all  away 
from  us.  It  seems  too  cruel!  It  isn't  that  I  don't 
realize  how  hard  it  was  on  Mrs.  Flynn,  nor  that  we 
wanted  to  wash  our  hands  of  her.  I  never  saw  her 
husband  in  all  my  life,  nor  did  Tom  ever  see  him  until 
the  day  of  the  accident ;  and  we  didn't  build  the  factory 
building,  with  its  dark  corners.  But  we  both,  Tom  and 
I,  wanted  to  help  the  poor  woman  as  much  as  we 
could  afford.  Mr.  Nelson  wx>uldn't  let  us.  He  said  it 
would  be  a  confession  of  weakness — an  admission  of 
our  liability.  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Nelson's  advice 
was  good.  You  would  have  used  our  action  against 
us.  You  see  how  wantonly  your  law  does  its  work 
of  crushing  out  human  sympathies.  This  woman  can 
never  know  how  truly  we  yearned  to  help  her  in  her 
sorrow,  and  the  only  thing  your  system  can  suggest 
is  to  tear  down  all  we've  built  with  our  very  lives,  and 
to  make  paupers  of  us  and  our  poor  little  boy."  She 
ended  in  a  flood  of  vehement  self-pity,  which  carried 
her  out  of  her  marked  habit  of  cultured  self-control. 

Before  he  could  reply,  she  had  regained  her  poise, 
and  even  made  a  brave  effort  at  a  pitiful  gaiety. 

"  I  talk  like  a  heroine  of  melodrama,"  she  said. 
"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  have  told  all  this  to  you, — 
of  all  people." 

29 


THE  CONQUEST 

"If  you  weren't  an  unusual  woman,  you  wouldn't 
talk  to  me  at  all,"  he  told  her  gravely. 

"  Well,"  she  responded,  "  you  asked  questions;  I've 
answered  them.  If  we  lose  this  case,  we're  done  for. 
All  we've  saved  will  be  gone.  We'll  have  just  about 
enough  to  pay  our  debts.  We're  not  young  enough, 
nor  brave  enough,  nor  blind  enough,  to  begin  again. 
My  husband  won't  even  find  it  easy  to  discover  another 
master  to  give  him  work.     It's  ruin." 

All  he  could  find  to  murmur  was  "  Fm  sorry — sorry 
it  had  to  be  you." 

But  after  a  pause,  he  determined  to  make  another 
effort  to  impose  his  own  point  of  view  on  this  gallant 
enemy.  He  could  not  explain  to  himself  why  he  was 
so  anxious  she  should  not  think  too  ill  of  him.  He 
simply  accepted  the  fact,  and  began  in  his  quiet,  earnest 
manner :  "  Think  for  a  minute  of  this  Irish  widow's 
position.  She  hasn't  your  education,  your  culture,  or 
your  magnificent  courage ;  '  stupid '  you  call  her,  and 
so  she  is ;  but  she  lived  her  own  little  round  of  content- 
ment,— the  wife  of  a  strong,  skilled  mechanic,  who 
earned  a  large  wage  for  a  man  of  his  class,  and  treated 
her  as  well  as  she  had  been  led  to  suppose  any  husband 
would.  She  was  really  a  woman  of  position  in  her 
little  circle, — a  sordid  group  to  people  like  you  (yes, 
and  to  me,  too.  Fm  not  criticising  you),  but  it  was  her 
circle,  remember.  Her  husband  earned  twenty-two  dol- 
lars a  week.    That  was  wealth  for  them.    If  he  was  a 

30 


THE. PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

bit  rough  with  her  sometimes,  she,  herself,  is  not  too 
delicate  or  exacting.  In  her  way,  I  have  no  doubt,  she 
was  really  fond  of  him, — not  a  whit  less  because,  now 
and  then,  he  struck  her.  Perhaps  she  was  even  a  bit 
proud  of  his  mastery.  Suddenly,  without  warning,  he 
is  gone!  Her  whole  life  totters  about  her  ears.  She 
hasn't,  as  you  have,  any  spiritual  resources  of  her  own 
to  draw  on;  nothing  is  left,  day  after  day,  but  scrub- 
bing floors  and  feeding  and  beating  the  babies.  That, 
and  remembering  her  lost  grandeur.  Her  only  chance 
at  anything  like  happiness  is  money, — your  money. 
It's  hard  on  you,  but,  at  least,  ypu  lose  only  money. 
Your  husband  hasn't  been  taken  from  you." 

„ "  You're  taking  the  best  part  of  him,"  she  retorted. 
"  You  make  him  for  life  the  prisoner  of  poverty,  sen- 
tenced to  hard  labor,  with  nothing  but  weariness  and 
unhappiness  to  share  with  his  wife  and  boy." 

"  The  scrubwoman!  "  he  insisted,  '*  is  her  labor  less 
wearing?    What  about  her  boys?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  help  her,"  Mrs.  Martin  repeated. 
"  It  was  your  courts  which  stood  between  us." 

"  You  wanted  to  give  her  charity,  but  she  has  the 
right  to  justice.  Her  strong,  vigorous  man  is  dead, 
because  there  was  no  light  at  your  elevator  shaft. 
Can't  you  see  you  owe  her  the  money  value  of  his  life? 
Even  if  she  gets  a  big  verdict,  her  share,  invested 
safely,  cannot  yield  more  than  about  six  hundred  a 

31 


THE  CONQUEST 

year,  much  less  than  the  man  earned.  Somebody  must 
pay,  and  unfortunately,  it's  you." 

She  turned  to  him  suddenly  and  asked  sharply: 
"  Were  you  ever  poor?  " 

"  I  am  poor  now,"  he  answered  simply.  He  might 
have  added  that  he  had  worked  his  own  way  through 
college  and  law  school;  that  all  his  savings,  and  some 
borrowed  money,  besides,  had  gone  to  fit  up  an  office ; 
that  he  had  staked  everything  on  this  venture  at  being 
a  lawyer,  and  if  this  very  case  failed  to  bring  him 
prestige,  additional  work  and  the  promise  of  some 
money,  he  could  not  see  how  he  would  get  through 
the  winter.  He  did  not  say  these  things.  He  had  a 
gift  of  timely  reticence.  She  suspected  that  he  might 
have  expanded  upon  the  theme  of  his  poverty,  and  was 
pleased  with  him  for  the  good  breeding  which  kept 
him  silent.  At  the  same  time,  his  conduct  seemed  to 
reproach  her  subtly  for  her  own  unwonted  garrulity. 
Still,  her  suppressed  excitement  drove  her  on  to  further 
speech. 

"  Well,  if  youVe  poor,"  she  insisted,  "  you  know 
perfectly  well  poverty  isn't  the  same  thing  to  you  and 
to  Mrs.  Flynn.  It  means  to  her  nothing  but  what  she 
is  accustomed  to  know.  It's  ugly,  but  not  terrifying; 
for  you,  it  means  no  books,  no  pictures,  no  music,  no 
opportunity  for  meeting  interesting  men  and  women — 
none  of  the  pleasant  things  which  make  life  beautiful 
and  make  you  grow.     It  means  these  things  to  us;  it 

32 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

means  more;  it  means  that  we  can't  give  such  oppor- 
tunities to  our  little  son;  it  means,  besides,  haunting; 
numbing  fear  as  to  what  degradation  to-morrow  may 
bring." 

"  Just  because  she  has  already  reached  the  depths 
from  which  you  shrink  makes  her  case  more  pitiful 
than  ours  can  ever  be,"  he  urged.  ''  But  I  can't  make 
you  see  it.  I  realize  it  would  be  asking  the  impossible 
to  expect  it  of  you;  but,  at  least,"  he  concluded,  with  a 
smile  which  no  woman  could  have  failed  to  find  win- 
ning, *'  you  no  longer  think  of  me, — ^the  woman's 
advocate, — as  a  dreadful  monster,  do  you?  " 

Her  expression,  as  she  looked  into  his  face,  was 
very  wistful  and  searching.  His  smile  died  away. 
"  Tell  me,"  she  inquired  impulsively,  "  if  you'd  had 
this  talk  with  me  last  week,  would  you  have  tried  this 
case  in  just  the  same  way?" 

A  lie  would  have  been  so  easy  and  so  pleasant.  It 
was  characteristic  of  John  Howard  that  it  never  oc- 
curred to  him  to  make  use  of  it. 

"  In  just  the  same  way,"  he  answered  soberly.  **  My 
duty  was  to  this  woman!  No  matter  how  much  I 
admired  you,  no  matter  how  well  I  knew  I  was  hurt- 
ing you,  it  would  have  been  wrong  for  me  to  have 
left  out  one  word  of  my  argument  which  might  have 
helped  her  to  a  large  verdict.  A  lawyer  may  not  in- 
dulge his  sentiments  or  his  friendships  at  his  client's 
expense.  His  obligation  is  something  like  a  soldier's, 
3  33 


THE  CONQUEST 

and  when  he  is  called  to  battle,  he  may  be  forced  to 
wound  his  dearest  friend." 

She  shrank  from  him  as  though  he  had  struck  her. 
Her  voice  was  low  and  harsh  as  she  said,  "  It  isn't 
that  I  don't  like  you.  I  do.  I  think  you're  a  nice  boy 
and  you've  a  wonderful  brain.  I  know  it,  to  my 
bitter  cost.  Maybe  you'll  laugh  when  I  say  I  am  sorry 
for  you.  I  told  you  I  had  a  little  boy.  God  knows 
what  will  become  of  him  after  you've  taken  our  money 
away.  But  I'd  rather  strangle  him  with  my  own 
hands  than  have  him  grow  up  to  enter  on  your 
detestable  trade." 


Ill 

John  Howard,  who  had  returned  to  the  trial  table, 
sat  motionless  in  his  chair,  making  vigorous  efforts  to 
shake  off  the  burden  of  depression  Mrs.  Martin's  burst 
of  passion  had  laid  upon  his  spirits.  After  all,  why 
should  he  care  what  she  thought  of  him  or  of  his  work? 
The  whole  opinion  of  thinking  mankind  was  against 
her.  She  spoke  under  stress  of  a  bitter  unhappiness. 
She  was  not,  at  the  best,  a  woman  of  abnormal  men- 
tality or  learning.  He  knew  his  work  was  not  ignoble ; 
at  least,  it  was  certainly  no  less  honorable  than  any 
other  form  of  work.  Society  had  classed  it  among 
the  learned  and  dignified  professions.  Yet,  she  had 
made  him  uncomfortable.  She  had  clouded  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  victory  he  was  confident  of  winning.  It 
was  as  though  the  warrior,  in  the  thick  of  combat, 
had  been  given  a  vision  of  the  women  and  children 
made  desolate  by  his  skill  and  valor.  It  caused  him  keen 
distress,  even  though  he  couldn't  see  how  he,  or  any- 
one else,  was  in  any  wise  to  blame.  Men  must  fight 
in  this  world  with  swords  and  with  money.  There 
was  no  other  way  of  life.  As  a  result,  some  must  be 
killed  and  more  must  be  woimded.  That  meant  the 
waiHng  of  women  and  children.  Was  not  that  in- 
evitable? Was  it  a  fair  indictment  against  the  cour- 
ageous soldier?     Mrs.  Martin  had  somehow  put  him 

35 


THE  CONQUEST 

in  the  wrong.  Together  with  his  sympathy  for  her, 
was  an  unreasoning  resentment.  With  her  womanish 
appeal  to  his  pity,  she  had  spoilt  his  great  day — the  day 
on  which  he  had  proved  that,  stripling  though  he  was, 
he  was  not  unworthy  to  take  his  place  in  the  thick  of 
legal  warfare. 

In  the  midst  of  his  musings,  there  came  an  un- 
wonted clatter  in  the  room.  The  doors  were  flung 
open  and  the  actors  and  spectators  in  this  sordid  little 
drama  streamed  back  from  the  corridors,  bringing  with 
them  again  the  atmosphere  of  suppressed  excitement. 
In  some  occult  manner,  there  had  been  noised  about  a 
rumor  of  the  jury's  agreement.  Mrs.  Flynn  took  her 
place  once  more  beside  Howard,  in  dumb  expectancy, 
eager,  but  uncomprehending  the  possibilities  of  the 
role  she  was  playing.  Mrs.  Martin  and  her  husband 
sat  together  on  the  first  of  the  long  benches  behind  the 
trial  table,  her  hand  tightly  clasped  in  his,  as  though 
each  sought  from  the  other  strength  to  bear  with  cour- 
age an  inevitable  stroke  of  fate.  Mr.  Nelson,  with  a 
theatrical  display  of  confidence,  hurried  to  his  seat  at 
the  trial  table.  An  attendant  clumsily  lighted  a  gas 
jet  above  the  judge's  desk,  hurling  a  law  book  to  the 
floor  in  his  haste.  It  made  a  prodigious  sound  in  the 
silence  and  was  followed  by  the  nervous  laughter  of 
the  spectators.  An  instant  later,  Judge  Carey,  with 
dignified  dispatch,  ascended  the  bench,  and  the  jury  filed 
into  the  court-room  and  was  seated  in  its  box.    Every- 

36 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

one  there  mentally  hazarded  a  guess  as  to  the  verdict, 
as  he  scrutinized  the  tired,  sullen  faces.  Evidently, 
the  discussions  had  not  been  conducted  without  some 
friction.  They  seemed  hungry,  vexed  and  disturbed. 
The  clerk  of  the  court  whispered  sagely  to  the  bailiff 
his  belief  that  had  it  not  been  supper  time,  a  verdict 
would  not  have  been  reached  so  promptly;  perhaps 
they  never  would  have  agreed. 

The  judge  tapped  his  desk  lightly  with  his  gavel  and 
the  bailiff  cried  "  Silence !  "  in  utter  disregard  of  the 
fact  that  he  alone  had  broken  a  hush  almost  uncanny. 

The  matter-of-fact  voice  of  the  clerk  was  then 
heard,  droning  the  formal  and  utterly  unnecessary 
question : 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon  a 
verdict?" 

"  We  have,"  came  the  low  rumble  from  the  jury 
box. 

"  Call  the  equitable  plaintiff,"  ordered  the  judge. 

"Annie  Flynn !  "  called  the  clerk,  as  though  anxious 
to  get  through  with  the  ceremony  and  home  to  his 
family  and  food. 

"  Here !  "  replied  John  Howard,  answering  for  her 
in  his  quiet,  confident  voice. 

"  Who  shall  speak  your  verdict  for  you  ? "  de- 
manded the  clerk,  of  the  jury. 

"  Our  foreman,"  came  their  answer. 

That  important  personage  arose.  The  gas  light  fell 
37 


THE  CONQUEST 

full  on  his  rugged  features.  He  was  obviously  a  man 
whose  life  had  been  spent  in  manual  toil,  and  apparently 
was  almost  crushed  by  his  new-found  dignity. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  the  clerk  hurried  on, 
**  how  say  you,  do  you  find  for  the  equitable  plaintiff 
or  the  defendant?'' 

The  foreman,  with  untutored  dramatic  instinct, 
gave  himself  the  benefit  of  an  instant's  delay  before 
replying.  For  one  minute,  he  was  a  heroic  character,—^ 
his  hidden  answer  pregnant  with  destiny. 

"For  the  equitable  plaintiff,"  he  announced  most 
solemnly. 

"And  at  what  sum  do  you  assess  the  damages?" 
the  derk  demanded,  almost  savagely. 

"At  the  sum  of  fourteen  thousand  dollars,"  the 
foreman  said. 

John  Howard  heard  from  behind  him  a  quick, 
almost  sobbing  breath.  He  did  not  turn  his  head, 
nor  did  he  smile  at  the  magnitude  of  his  victory.  He 
knew  the  sound  had  come  from  Mrs.  Martin,  and  that 
she  was  fighting  hard  and  successfully  to  keep  back  her 
tears. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  the  clerk  proceeded, 
"hearken  unto  your  verdict  as  your  foreman  hath 
spoken  it,  and  the  court  hath  recorded  it.  Your  fore- 
man says  you  find  for  the  equitable  plaintiff  in  the 
sum  of  fourteen  thousand  dollars,  and  so  say  you  all 
of  you?" 

38 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

"  We  do."  The  jury's  response  straggled  from  its 
members,  and  they  made  preparations  to  leave  their 
seats. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  the  clerk  concluded, 
gathering  his  papers  together  as  he  spoke,  "  you  are 
discharged  from  further  duty  until  to-morrow  morning 
at  ten  o'clock. 

"At  ten  o'clock !  "  John  heard  Mrs.  Martin's  voice 
murmur  brokenly.  "  To-morrow  they  will  do  things 
like  this  again." 


IV 

That  same  morning,  John  Howard  had  entered  the 
dingy  old  court-house,  haunted  with  its  memories  of 
briUiant  lawyers  and  learned,  just  judges,  now  long 
since  dead.  Life  had  then  seemed  a  more  simple  and 
direct  matter  than  it  did  to-night,  as  he  walked  down 
the  narrow  street  on  his  way  home.  He  was  op- 
pressed by  a  puzzled  feeling  that  all  human  values  were 
somehow  confused. 

He  had  taken  his  place  at  the  trial  table  on  this 
last  day,  with  a  sense  of  exalted  pride.  In  his  own 
clerical  fashion,  he  was  a  worthy  descendant  of  the 
mediaeval  knights-errant.  His  great  opportunity  to 
appear  in  the  lists  had  at  last  arrived,  the  day  of  battle 
for  which  he  had  so  faithfully  prepared, — for  which 
he  had  so  eagerly  waited.  He  was  to  win  a  triumph 
against  a  foeman  worthy  of  his  steel  and  in  his  vic- 
tory find  fame,  fortune  and  the  right  to  claim  as  his 
very  own  the  lady  of  his  dreams.  It  was  all  so 
simple.  But  to-night,  having  borne  down  in  combat 
his  opponents,  having  fought  his  tourney  valiantly  and 
well,  the  sense  of  joy  in  his  success  was  utterly  lacking. 
The  moans  of  the  wounded  victims  of  his  skill  had 
blunted  the  keen  edge  of  his  happiness.  Fame !  Well, 
there  would  be  talk  enough  of  his  victory,  certainly, 
but  he  felt,  somehow,  a  bit  uncertain  whether  it  w^.s 

4P 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

renown  or  notoriety  he  had  achieved.  Money !  Surely, 
when  the  case  was  settled,  he  would  have  more  than 
he  had  ever  possessed  in  all  his  young  life,  but  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Martin's  white  face  and  pitiful  words : 
"  It's  ruin,"  filled  him  with  a  quixotic  desire  to  give 
to  her  the  entire  fee  he  had  earned.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  he  did  not  really  intend  doing  anything  so  ridicu- 
lous, but  the  mere  fact  of  this  perverted  desire  was 
a  source  of  misgiving. 

Of  course,  there  was  Margaret  Gilmor.  He  could 
marry  her  now.  There  would  be  money  enough  to 
last  them  until  another  case  should  be  tried  and  won; 
but  here,  once  more,  he  experienced  a  baffled  sense  of 
discomfort.  He  wondered  what  she  would  have 
thought  could  she  have  been  in  court  and  heard  his 
discussion  with  Mrs.  Martin.  Was  he  a  hero  to  her 
only  because  she  did  not  thoroughly  understand  him 
and  his  work?  Of  course,  he  was  a  hero  to  her;  no 
doubt  on  that  subject  had  as  yet  assailed  him.  She 
was  part  of  the  spoils  of  his  victory.  Through  all 
the  weary  months  at  the  squalid  little  boarding  house, 
just  aside  from  the  traffic  of  West  Baltimore  Street, 
where  he  had  lived  in  the  uncomfortable  room 
under  the  roof,  which  was  as  hot  in  summer  as  it  was 
cold  in  winter,  he  had  thought,  with  a  naive  and  boyish 
romanticism,  about  Margaret — his  Margaret,  he  had 
called  her  in  his  thoughts,  though  never  in  actual 
>vords,  for  in  the  sedate  year  1892  the  proprieties  were 

41 


THE.  CONQUEST 

spelled  in  larger  type  than  to-day.  But  the  unspoken 
language  of  youth,  and  the  way  of  a  man — and  par- 
ticularly a  young  man — with  a  maid,  have  changed 
very  little  in  their  essentials  since  the  day  of  the  sage 
King  Solomon;  and  maids — ^particularly  blithe  and 
pretty  ones — have  their  own-  inarticulate  ways  of  mak- 
ing known  to  cavaliers,  who  are  penniless  and,  there- 
fore, silent,  the  cheering  tidings  that  their  addresses 
are  not  altogether  unwelcome. 

It  never  occurred  to  John  to  doubt  that  Margaret 
would  blush  charmingly  and  surrender  with  frank 
happiness  when  he  told  her  he  had  gained  the  right 
to  put  into  words  what  she  must  long  since  have  known. 
To  be  sure,  she  was  not  of  the  languishing  type,  who 
sees  a  love-stricken  swain  in  every  man  who  comments 
pleasantly  and  conventionally  upon  the  weather  and 
the  lack  of  proper  ventilation  in  a  boarding  house. 
Far  from  it.  She  approached  as  nearly  to  what  was 
then  known,  rather  awesomely,  as  *'  the  new  woman,'* 
as  a  pretty  and  altogether  lovable  girl  of  nineteen 
could.  For  she  taught  in  a  public  school  the  wisdom 
she  had  learned  in  the  same  gaunt  building,  only  a  few 
years  before;  and  she,  like  John  Howard,  had  not  a 
relative  within  miles  of  Baltimore  and,  therefore,  lived 
alone  in  a  boarding  house, — which  fact  in  itself  would 
have  constituted  a  public  scandal,  had  the  public  not 
been  utterly  oblivious  of  her  existence.  Nor  was  that 
the  worst  of  her  independent  foibles.    Every  pay  day, 

4« 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

she  carefully  carried  to  the  old,  brown-stone  savings 
bank,  on  Eutaw  Street,  a  substantial  part  of  her  earn- 
ings, with  the  fixed  idea,  when  they  had  swelled  to  suffi- 
ciently dignified  proportions,  of  abandoning  her  pupils 
and  entering  a  Women's  College. 

There  was  even  then  under  construction  in  the 
northern  suburbs  of  the  city  such  an  institution,  and 
men  gravely  and  apprehensively  debated  whether  the 
higher  education  was  really  an  influence  to  which 
tender  Southern  women  should  be  exposed;  but  Mar- 
garet had  no  qualms.  The  thought  of  blue  stockings 
brought  no  terrors  to  her  soul,  though  her  own  hosiery 
continued  to  be  dainty  and  sombre  hued. 

After  she  had  won  her  coveted  Bachelor's  Degree, 
there  was  to  be  still  more  teaching  and  then  a  four 
years'  course  in  a  medical  school.  To  such  depths 
of  depravity  had  this  young  culprit  sunk!  The  elderly 
spinsters  at  the  boarding  house  opined  sadly  what  a 
real  pity  it  was  that  Miss  Gilmor  should  be  so  "  strong 
minded,"  as  though  there  were  some  particular  merit 
in  being  weak  minded. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Margaret  was  the  exact  an- 
tithesis of  being  masculine,  if  that  characteristic  was 
what  her  critics  meant  by  the  phrase  they  applied  to 
her.  She  was  feminine  to  the  tips  of  her  attractive, 
tapered  fingers,  and  if  she  meant  to  be  a  physician, 
it  was  not  because  she  was  clamorously  seeking  what 
it  was  then  fashionable  to  call  a  "  career,"  but  because, 

43 


THE  CONQUEST 

being  impelled  by  stem  necessity  to  earn  her  bread, 
she  had  early  decided  to  do  work  which  should  be 
interesting  and  well  paid,  rather  than  labor  at  some- 
thing dreary  and  unremunerative.  This  was  the  sum 
and  substance  of  her  practicality.  However,  she  lent 
herself  somewhat  to  misconstruction,  because  she  had 
not  yet  learned  to  look  with  much  patience  upon  ineffec- 
tual failure,  and  still  more  because  mere  man,  just  be- 
cause he  was  male,  awakened  no  flutterings  in  her 
speech  or  conduct.  The  masculine  wreckage  which 
floated  in  and  out  of  the  little  commimity  at  Mrs.  Ran- 
dall's select,  but  unpalatial,  establishment  on  Hollins 
Street,  seemed  to  make  no  more  impression  on  what 
should  have  been  her  susceptible  young  female  heart 
than  if  they  had  been  feminine  book  agents.  To  all  of 
them  she  had  been  courteous,  distant,  and  if  the  truth 
must  be  admitted,  more  than  a  little  disdainful.  They 
were  a  sad  lot — without  ambition  or  initiative — she 
told  herself. 

But  when  John  Howard  entered  her  field  of  vision, 
she  seemed  to  lose  a  part  of  her  dominant  singleness  of 
purpose.  The  charms  of  independence,  and  of  the 
ultimate  practice  of  medicine,  grew  perceptibly  less 
inviting  in  her  eyes. 

John  had  refused  to  be  terrified  by  the  forbidding 
reputation  she  had  acquired  among  her  fellow  boarders. 
He  had  rather  insisted  on  being  taken  into  her  con- 
fidence.   They  had,  from  the  beginning,  found  a  bond 

44 


THE  PLANT  OF  BATTLE 

of  communion  in  their  reprehensible  condescension 
toward  their  surroundings,  human  and  inanimate.  John 
had  noticed,  when  he  went  through  the  ordeal  of  his 
first  meal  at  Mrs.  Randall's  table,  this  one  bit  of  femi- 
nine daintiness  and  charm  among  these  tawdry  neigh- 
bors. Amid  men  and  women  who  talked  too  much, 
too  intimately  and  too  querulously,  it  was  pleasant  to 
find  someone  (like  himself,  he  modestly  admitted)  who 
knew  how  to  preserve  a  decent  reticence,  and  who  pat- 
ently displayed  a  superiority  to  an  unpleasant  environ- 
ment. If  Margaret  had  been  just  enough  years  older 
to  perceive  the  pathos  in  Mrs.  Randall's  oft-repeated 
assurances  touching  her  patrician  origin,  or  had  John 
been  sufficiently  mellowed  to  hear  with  tolerance  old 
Mr.  Todd's  plans  for  transforming  his  wonderful  patent 
into  a  still  more  wonderful  fortune,  the  boy  and  the 
girl  might  never  have  passed  the  borders  of  casual 
acquaintanceship.  For  among  the  flotsam  and  jetsam 
of  a  genteel  shabby  boarding  house,  there  were  several 
who  had  more  interesting  memories  to  conjure  out 
of  the  past,  and  more  marvellous  (if  less  plausible) 
dreams  about  the  future,  than  either  this  man  or  maid, 
each  of  whom  was  full,  almost  to  overflowing,  with 
youth's  insolent  contempt  for  all  weakness  except  its 
own ;  but  John  Howard's  every  action  proclaimed  him 
the  banished  prince,  living  in  dismal  but  romantic  exile, 
only  until  a  rapidly  approaching  restoration  to  his  king- 
dom should  be  achieved;  while  the  still  younger  Mar- 

45 


THE  CONQUEST 

garet  could  only  give  a  grave  and  dignified  sympathy, 
reaching  down  miles  from  her  own  lofty  altitude  to 
those  lesser  beings,  who  saw  life  through  dimmer  eyes 
than  hers.  And  so  almost  by  mathematical  necessity, 
these  two,  marooned  among  what  they  chose  to  think 
negligible  creatures,  became  friends.  Margaret  was 
distractingly  pretty  and  that,  in  itself,  might  have  been 
enough  to  ensnare  (if  not,  perhaps,  to  hold)  the 
thoughts  of  a  young  and  susceptible  boy,  who,  in  spite 
of  his  brilliant,  restless  mind  and  his  absorbing  studies, 
was  miserably  hungry  for  simple,  human  companion- 
ship, since  he  was  too  poor  either  for  innocent  pleas- 
ures or  harmful  dissipations,  and  had  few  friends  of 
his  own  age  and  tastes.  But  Margaret  was  much  more 
than  merely  pretty.  She  had  a  mind — not  a  mind,  to 
be  sure,  like  that  of  John,  who  was  always  seeking  a 
new  and  better  way  to  do  an  old  thing,  or  a  reason  for 
abandoning  the  old  thing  altogether — ^but  a  spirit  quick 
to  see  intellectual  merit,  even  though  she  could  not 
originate  it,  and  eager  to  adopt  the  best  of  other  men's 
thoughts  when  presented  to  her.  It  was  that  quality 
which  led  her  to  admire  John  Howard  and  to  let  him 
see  quite  frankly  how  much  she  approved  of  him. 
No  man  of  four-and-twenty  (or  alas!  of  four-and- 
sixty)  ever  received  the  undisguised  and,  of  course, 
well-deserved,  admiration  of  a  pretty  lass  of  nineteen 
entirely  unmoved.  John  found  himself  helping  her 
with  her  work,  explaining  in  a  few  minutes,  in  his  own 

46 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

luminous,  simple  language,  problems  she  had  puzzled 
over  fruitlessly  for  hours.  He  made  opportunities  for 
long  walks,  announcing  with  almost  haughty  candor 
his  inability  to  offer  her  more  expensive  forms  of  en- 
tertainment. On  these  walks,  they  talked  long  and 
solemnly  about  all  those  problems  which,  since  time 
began,  have  vexed  this  gray  old  world,  and  been  blithely 
solved  each  year  by  men  of  twenty  or  more,  and  girls 
of  twenty  or  less.  Most  of  all,  they  talked  about 
themselves.  It  thrilled  both  of  them  that  he,  who  was 
so  strong  and  reticent,  and  she,  who  was  so  sweet  and 
unspoiled,  should  find  it  possible  to  open  their  hearts — 
one  to  the  other — and  tell  all  those  vague  hopes  and 
ideals,  which  from  the  heights  (or  are  they  depths?) 
of  middle  age  seem  so  absurd  and  so  beautiful.  These 
talks  were  to  Margaret  an  immensely  broadening  and 
disquieting  experience.  His  faiths  were  not  hers.  His 
creed  seemed  to  be  made  up  of  sheer  force;  his  con- 
cepts were  all  created  out  of  pure  egotism.  Yet  he 
was  full  of  charm  in  his  quiet  way  and  of  such  domi- 
nance at  times  as  to  make  her  a  wee  bit  afraid  of 
him.  It  amazed  her  to  discover  that  it  was  at  such 
times  she  liked  him  best.  She  began  to  entertain  mis- 
givings about  the  matter-of-fact,  serviceable  path  of 
life  she  had  marked  out.  She  was  not  simple  enough 
to  have  announced,  even  to  herself,  as  some  legendary- 
women  are  supposed  to  do,  a  stem  intention  never^ 
never  to  marry.    On  the  contrary,  she  had  always  in- 

47 


THE  CONQUEST 

tended  to  marry  if  she  chanced  across  the  man  who 
corresponded  to  the  plans  and  specifications  she  had 
minutely  prepared;  and  this  mystical  husband  was,  it 
must  be  conceded,  something  of  a  prig.  She  never 
doubted  for  an  instant  the  willingness  and  ability  of 
this  not  impossible  lover  to  fit  his  life  to  hers,  and,  in  a 
vague  fashion,  at  once  to  do  his  work  in  the  world, 
while  he  succeeded  in  increasing  her  own  opportunities 
for  individual  growth.  She  did  not  intend,  as  she, 
herself,  would  have  phrased  it,  to  merge  her  identity 
in  any  man's!  John  Howard  was  not  one  whit  like 
the  diffident  hero  of  her  imaginings.  She  knew  better 
than  anything  else  about  him  one  certainty:  If  she 
married  him,  he  would  dominate  every  action  and 
thought  of  her  life.  There  would  be  for  her  no  col- 
lege, no  medical  school,  no  study,  no  existence  at  all, 
except  along  his  lines.  She  would  spend  her  years 
ministering  to  his  ever-expanding  growth  of  mind 
and  spirit.  After  a  brief  and  violent  struggle  with 
herself,  she,  to  her  own  intense  astonishment,  came 
above  all  things  to  desire  this  obliteration  of  her  own 
plans.  So  much  of  her  work  and  of  herself  would 
be  wasted  if  she  married  John !  She  could  not  abandon 
them  without  regrets;  but  it  amazed  her  to  become 
conscious  of  another  and  a  more  potent  phase  of  her 
nature,  which  would  be  totally  wasted  if  she  did  not 
marry  him.  She  recognized  the  poor  logic  of  her 
emotions.    Sometimes  she  smiled  at  herself  a  bit  wist- 

48 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

fully,  as  she  tried  to  analyze  what  was  passing  in  her 
mind.  But  she  ended  by  secretly  confessing  herself 
a  willing  captive  to  his  spell.  He  was  so  strong! — 
even  though  his  strength  was  as  yet  untried ;  he  was  so 
forceful! — even  though  one  could  only  guess  to  what 
ends  this  force  would  be  applied.  He  was  so  sure  of 
himself  and  so  certain  he  could  bend  others  to  his  will! 

The  knowledge  of  a  power  in  herself  to  awaken  in 
him  emotions  and  a  disguised  tenderness  no  one  else 
could  call  forth,  filled  her  with  a  strange  sense  of 
solemn  joy,  for  which  no  price  seemed  too  great  to 
pay.  It  would  be  happiness  merely  to  belong  abso- 
lutely to  a  man  like  John ;  the  more  sacrifices  of  selfish 
ambition  one  could  make  for  his  sake,  the  more  beau- 
tiful life  would  be — the  less  unworthy  a  woman  would 
have  proved  herself  to  deserve  the  affection  of  so 
wondrous  a  creature. 

And  John?  You  must  remember  his  own  views 
on  the  subject  of  John  Howard  were  almost  identical 
with  Margaret's.  Her  unspoken,  but  none  the  less 
evident,  estimate  did  not  seem  to  him  unduly  exag- 
gerated. He  was,  in  truth,  a  rather  unusual  young 
man,  and  he  knew  it  perfectly  well.  His  teachers  had 
told  him  of  the  fact.  His  classmates  at  college  and 
at  the  law  school  had  freely  conceded  it.  Not  that 
these  external  tributes  were  necessary  to  his  appraisal 
of  his  powers.  He  flattered  himself  he  understood 
his  own  abilities  and  his  own  limitations  a  little  better 

4  49 


THE  CONQUEST 

than  any  stranger  could  know  them ;  and  he  was  prob- 
ably right. 

As  to  his  spiritual  capacities  and  blemishes,  he 
gave  them  little  thought.  His  views  on  the  philosophy 
of  life  were  frankly  materialistic.  With  all  his  ego- 
tism, there  was,  however,  something  fine  and  clean 
about  him — ^a  strong  avoidance  of  degrading  things, 
not  so  much  in  obedience  to  any  code  of  morals,  but 
because  he  felt  himself  instinctively  to  be  too  impor- 
tant and  vital  to  soil  himself  with  baseness. 

Margaret's  admiration  of  him,  therefore,  could 
not  seem  otherwise  than  eminently  right  and  fit.  How- 
'cver,  while  it  awakened  no  surprise  in  his  mind,  it  did 
stir  that  other  side  of  him  which  you  might  have  called 
his  soul,  if  you  had  not  minded  his  laughing  at  you. 
She  was  so  frank,  so  free  from  coquetry,  so  willing 
to  admit  his  superior  claims  to  knowledge  on  all  sub- 
jects, yet  so  tenderly  anxious  to  be  helpful  to  him !  He 
could  not  remain  unmoved  by  her  sweetness  and  gentle 
strength.  Besides,  an  external  event  hurried  them 
along  in  its  current.  Mrs.  Randall's  other  guests  began, 
with  imbecile  smirks  and  ancient  vacuous  jests,  to 
link  their  names  together.  Margaret,  who  suddenly 
had  become  less  disdainful  and  more  sensitive  to  the 
horror  of  being  forced  upon  any  unwilling  man,  showed 
symptoms  of  withdrawing  herself  from  his  daily  notice. 
This  roused  the  strong  antagonism  of  John — never 
far  beneath  the  surface.    How  absurd  it  would  be  for 

50 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

decent  self-respecting  people  to  allow  a  pleasant  re- 
lationship to  be  shattered  by  the  idle  chatter  of  miser- 
able idiots !  The  male  element  in  him  was  awakened 
to  pursue  her.  Margaret  was  not  to  be  taken  away 
from  him  in  this  purposeless  manner.  He  redoubled 
his  efforts  to  be  with  her  often  and  discovered  anew 
those  thousand  little  methods,  whereby  boys  have  never 
failed  to  indicate  to  girls  how  potent  is  the  appeal  of 
their  charms.  Margaret  welcomed  these  subtle  evi- 
dences of  his  apparent  affection  with  open  pleasure. 
She  was  no  more  afraid  than  he  of  silly  gossip.  She 
had  merely  been  overwhelmed  by  an  instinctive  femi- 
nine apprehension  lest  he  feel  himself  entangled  against 
his  will.  She  was  not  the  creature,,  she  told  herself 
proudly,  to  connive  at  a  scheme  for  entrapping  any 
man.     But  if  he  persisted — and  he  did  persist! 

At  last  there  came  a  month  of  strain  and  stress, 
just  before  John's  admission  to  the  Bar, — when  he 
found  himself,  as  the  result  of  a  series  of  petty  finan- 
cial disasters,  without  any  money  at  all.  In  the  midst 
of  his  final  law  examinations,  he  was  put  to  the  most 
embarrassing  and  annoying  expedients  for  securing  the 
tiny  sums  necessary  to  meet  his  few  personal  expenses. 
He  was  even  compelled  to  undergo  the  unspeakable 
humiliation  of  craving  the  temporary  forbearance  of 
the  mistress  of  the  boarding  house,  and  he  went 
through  the  ordeal  with  the  stern  formality  and  frigid 
ungraciousness  of  a  martyr  making  his  final  remarks 

SI 


THE  CONQUEST 

at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  stair.  It  was  Mrs.  Randall 
who  told  her  of  John's  dilemma,  and  delicately — so 
very  delicately,  that  even  he  could  not  but  recognize 
its  quality — Margaret  showed  him  her  bank  book,  with 
its  amazing  total  and  urged  him  to  treat  her  like  a 
comrade.  He  would  not  take  her  money.  He  could 
manage  somehow,  he  assured  her ;  and  the  event  proved 
he  was  right.  But  his  refusal  was  a  tender  one,  almost 
as  gracefully  framed  as  her  generous  offer,  and  bur^ 
dened  with  unspoken  meanings  which  she  was  almost 
afraid  to  translate  into  definite  thought.  She  loved 
him  none  the  less  because  he  was  unwilling  to  make  his 
fight  from  behind  a  woman's  skirts.  It  seemed  to  her 
the  quintessence  of  chivalry  which  forbade  him  to  ac- 
cept any  promise  or  pledge  from  her  while  his  own 
horizon  was  black  with  danger.  She  would  await  joy- 
ously the  outcome  of  a  struggle,  which  could  end  only 
in  his  complete  success. 

From  that  night,  although  not  one  word  about 
their  marriage  had  ever  been  spoken,  neither  doubted 
what  the  outcome  of  their  friendship  was  to  be. 

He  had  even  indulged  himself,  on  many  nights 
before  he  lapsed  into  sleep,  in  pleasant  imaginings  as 
to  how  it  would  all  come  to  pass.  He  would  return 
from  court  on  the  day  his  first  big  victory  had  been 
won — full  of  enthusiasm  and  happiness  in  the  thought 
of  seating  this  fair  and  adoring  girl  beside  him  on  his 
throne.     It  would  be  a  glorious  winter  afternoon — 

5* 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

sparkling,  sunlit  and  cold.  He  would  wander  from 
the  court-room  up  Charles  Street,  with  the  memories 
of  his  triumph  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  imtil  he  reached 
the  shop  of  the  most  exclusive  florist  in  the  city;  and 
he  would  buy  roses — great,  vivid  pink  roses — somehow 
like  his  Margaret.  Then  he  would  hurry  home  to  the 
dingy  old  boarding  house,  and  let  himself  into  the  hall- 
way quietly,  so  that  no  one  would  intercept  him  and 
waste  even  one  minute  of  his  precious  day  of  days.  He 
would  tap  gently  at  her  door  on  the  second  floor — ■ 
just  beneath  his  own — and  would  hear  her  clear,  eager 
voice  ask  who  was  there.  He  would  answer  (full  of 
suppressed  excitement  and  exultation)  ''  It's  I — ^John, 
come  to  the  door.  I  want  to  talk  to  you — now,  at 
once."  And  she'd  come — promptly.  She  always  did 
what  he  bade  her.  As  she  stepped  out  into  the  narrow 
and  dim  upper  hall,  he'd  have  an  all  too  fleeting  glimpse 
of  her  prim  little  room,  so  dainty  and  tidy  amid  the 
squalid  disorder  to  which  Mrs.  Randall's  other  boarders 
had  accustomed  him.  Then,  when  she  should  look 
at  him — her  pretty  face  all  alight  with  happy  anticipa- 
tion— he'd  announce:  "  I've  won  a  case^ — a  great  big 
case.  Lots  of  people  will  want  me  to  work  for  them 
now.  There'll  be  money,  too — ^money  galore,  and  noth- 
ing more  to  worry  about.  We're  going  to  celebrate !  " 
She  would  know  what  climax  the  celebration  was 
to  have,  but  with  a  delicious  shyness  she  would  give  no 
outward  hint  of  her  knowledge.    Then  he  would  give 

S3 


THE  CONQUEST 

further  orders.  "  Get  into  your  most  festive  clothes. 
Look!  I've  brought  you  a  few  flowers!  We'll  walk 
— it's  too  fine  a  day  to  be  cooped  up  in  a  pokey  old 
horse-car — we'll  walk  down  to  the  Carrollton  and  have 
supper — a  real  supper,  not  one  of  Mrs.  Randall's. 
After  that,  if  there's  time,  maybe  we'll  go  to  the 
theatre.  We're  going  to  pack  a  whole  year's  fun  into 
one  night." 

She  would  hesitate  for  a  minute  or  two — suggest 
timidly,  perhaps,  the  imprudence  of  his  extravagant 
plans — but  he'd  brush  her  objections  away  with  his 
characteristic  lordly  air  as  he  would  go  on  to  tell  of 
the  golden  shower  sure  to  descend  almost  at  once. 
Then  he  would  rush  upstairs  to  dress,  leaving  her  a  bit 
bewildered,  with  the  great  box  of  roses  in  her  arms, 
only  to  descend  half  an  hour  later,  to  find  her  patiently 
waiting  to  be  borne  off  in  triumph.  They  would  walk 
briskly  through  the  gathering  dusk  to  the  stately  old 
hotel,  talking  blithely  as  they  went  about  his  great 
victory  and  his  brilliant  prospects.  She  would  be  no 
less  happy  than  himself,  for  was  she  not  to  share  in 
his  good  fortune?  It  would  be  a  merry  little  supper 
party,  made  up  of  joyous  words  and  laughter,  with  a 
serious  undertone  of  great  responsibilities  soon  to  be 
assumed.  There  would  be  glowing  candles  and  flowers, 
and  the  soft  harmony  of  distant  music,  as  they  feasted 
luxuriously  upon  all  the  dainties  which  had  been  denied 
them  through  these  weary  months.     He  could  picture 

54 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

with  absolute  accuracy  each  detail  to  himself.  It 
would  be  for  her  a  foretaste  of  the  care-free  and 
bounteous  life  he  meant  to  create  for  this  dear  girl, 
who  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  find  favor  in  his  eyes. 
There  should  be  nothing  she  could  faintly  desire  which 
he  would  not  lay  at  her  dainty  feet — nothing,  at  least, 
which  occurred  to  him ;  what  share  she  might  demand 
in  the  molding  of  their  joint  lives  never,  even  remotely, 
entered  his  mind.  She  was  completely  his,  and  she  was 
good  and  beautiful,  just  as  the  roses  he  meant  her  to 
wear.  His  imaginings  concerning  her  did  not  extend 
to  speculation  regarding  her  inner  self,  and  what  he 
called  love  was,  therefore,  largely  part  and  parcel  of 
his  own  tremendous  egotism;  but  to  him  it  was  a  fair 
vision,  and  he  sought  to  pierce  no  further  into  its 
meaning. 

On  this  night,  when  his  dreams  should  come  true, 
they  would  idle  long  at  supper  and  have  much  to  say, 
each  to  the  other.  Perhaps  they  would  be  too  late  for 
theatre.  He  would  not  really  be  sorry.  He  would 
have  her  all  to  himself  so  many  -hours  more.  They 
would  return  to  the  boarding  house,  no  longer  repul- 
sive, because  it  was  now  to  be  'their  shelter  only  a 
short  space  longer,  and  also  because  it  was  to  be  linked 
for  all  time  in  their  thoughts  with  such  ardent  mem- 
ories. The  long,  bare  parlor  would  be  entirely  de- 
serted and  with  a  delightful  sense  of  proprietorship, 
b^  would  take  her  wrap  from  her  shoulders  and  lead 

^5 


THE  CONQUEST 

her  to  a  chair,  placed  next  to  his  own  before  the  glow- 
ing little  stove.  An  open  hearth  would,  in  truth,  have 
fitted  the  exigencies  of  the  occasion  better,  but  the  rosy 
fire-light,  even  if  it  were  thrown  from  a  tawdry,  black- 
ened little  stove,  would  bring  into  relief  those  clean  cut 
features  which  were  now  to  be  softened  with  a  tender 
affection  for  him. 

Then  he  would  tell  her  how  much  she  had  meant 
to  him  during  those  care-filled  days  of  preparation; 
how  the  thought  of  her  had  filled  him  with  courage  and 
resolution;  how  hard  he  had  found  it  to  keep  silence 
until  he  had  earned  the  right  to  demand  her  and  how 
unutterably  dear  she  was  to  him.  He  did  not  doubt 
his  ability  to  phrase  these  not  too  original  thoughts, 
rather  well.  In  a  quiet,  severe  fashion,  he  had  a  genu- 
ine feeling  for  appropriate  words,  and  he  knew  his 
powers  with  accuracy. 

She  would  listen,  of  course,  in  agitated  joy,  to  the 
story  no  girl  ever  finds  dull,  and  she  would  lay  her 
hands  in  his  in  sweet  and  happy  surrender;  and  while 
she  was  in  the  midst  of  her  solemn  and  beautiful  con- 
fession, he  would  take  'her  slender  young  body  into  his 
arms  and  rain  kisses  on  her  arch  and  mobile  lips — those 
lips  which  had  tempted  him  so  often.  For,  with  all 
his  power  and  reserve,  the  thought  of  those  gracefully 
moulded  lips,  long  desired  and  soon  to  be  generously 
yielded  to  his  importunity,  had  been  to  him  a  source 
of  bewildered  craving.     He  could  tWnk  of  no  reason 

56 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

why  any  woman's  caresses  should  appeal  to  him — ^to 
John  Howard,  who  saw  the  verities  of  life  and  its 
absurdities  with  clearer  eye  than  is  given  to  the  com- 
mon herd.  It  was  her  alert  mind,  her  sweet  humility, 
her  thoughtful  imagination,  which  had  won  his  affec- 
tion, he,  time  and  time  again,  assured  himself.  But, 
illogical  as  it  seemed  to  him,  he  desired  also  the  warm 
human  symbols  of  endearment.  He  meant  to  claim 
both  flesh  and  spirit  at  her  hands. 

So  ran  his  dreams,  and  he  had  found  in  them  many 
hours  of  solitary  happiness,  but  they  had  been  rudely 
brushed  aside  during  the  week  of  preparation  for  the 
all-absorbing  trial  of  Flynn  versus  Martin.  It  was  as 
though  there  had  been  a  corroding  poison  lurking  in 
that  case.  The  hours  sacred  to  Margaret  had,  perforce, 
been  given  over  to  study  and  planning  for  the  battle. 
He  had,  from  the  first,  mapped  out  a  campaign  of 
vigorous  and  unsparing  denunciation  of  the  defendant, 
which  should  be  all  the  more  effective  because  it  was 
to  be  done  without  heat  or  passion,  but  coldly,  quietly, 
relentlessly.  He  had  spent  night  after  night  drilling 
the  sodden  Mrs.  Flynn  for  her  ordeal  on  the  witness 
stand.  There  had  been  something  unutterably  grim 
about  the  whole  atmosphere  of  this  effort,  by  means 
of  law,  to  avenge  the  sudden  death  of  one  man,  by 
clutching  at  the  fortune  of  another.  When,  after 
nights  given  to  such  labor,  John  endeavored  to  com- 

57 


THE  CONQUEST' 

pose  himself  for  sleep,  the  idea  of  conjuring  up  rosy 
visions  of  happiness  with  Margaret  seemed  incongru- 
ous to  the  point  of  absolute  impossibility.  Thoughts 
of  love  and  marriage  seemed  to  find  no  place  in  the 
same  brain  which  only  an  hour  before  had  been 
creating  nicely-laid  schemes  for  entrapping  Mr.  Martin 
into  damaging  admissions.  His  was  no  task  for  a 
dreamer. 

What  amazed  John  most  of  all,  however,  was  the 
facility  with  which  he  managed  to  pass  these  seven 
days  without  seeing  his  Margaret  or  thinking  much 
about  her.  Engrossed  as  he  was  with  the  details  of 
this  important  case,  he  was  consciously  surprised  at 
finding  how  full  and  interesting  his  days  and  nights 
were,  although  he  could  find  no  time  for  speech  with 
Margaret,  or  even  for  more  than  the  most  fugitive 
thoughts  of  her.  He  knew  she  was  thinking  long  and 
earnestly  about  him  and  wishing  vainly  she  could  have 
borne  some  share  in  his  labors.  He,  for  his  part,  would 
have  found — could  he  have  spurred  himself  to  the 
emotion — a  definite  pleasure  in  mourning  their  en- 
forced separation;  but  he  was  too  busy,  and  in  his 
restrained  fashion,  too  excited  to  miss  her  at  all.  When 
the  case  and  the  days  of  absence  should  have  terminated 
in  victory,  he  told  himself,  he  would  return  again  to 
his  dreams  and  to  the  sweet  reality  of  his  Margaret 
All  should  be  as  he  had  so  fondly  imagined  it 

'5-8 


To-night  his  hour  had  come,  but  it  not  only  found 
him  curiously  warped  from  his  former  channels  of 
thought  and  feeling, — subtly  transformed  from  his  ro- 
manticism of  a  week  before, — but  each  circumstance 
he  had  so  definitely  anticipated  had  been  stripped  of 
its  glamour.  The  day  was  not  sunny  and  full  of  the 
color  and  exhilaration  of  winter.  The  hour  was  not 
that  of  early  afternoon.  It  was  now  a  dismal  night, 
chill,  penetrating,  with  a  slow,  cold  drizzle  of  icy  rain. 
The  streets  were  filled  with  sleet  and  a  walk  to  the 
Carrollton  would  have  been  a  source  of  discomfort, 
rather  than  of  keen  pleasure.  It  was  too  late  for  sup- 
per anyhow.  The  evening  meal  at  Mrs.  Randall's  was 
even  now  over.  His  verdict  had  arrived  at  the  wrong 
hour,  and  on  the  wrong  day.  All  the  florists'  shops 
had  long  since  been  closed.  Every  accessory  for  his 
celebration  was  lacking.  Even  the  element  of  surprise, 
which  was  to  play  a  part  in  his  plans,  had  been  snatched 
from  him.  The  trial  had  been  in  progress  three  days. 
The  newspapers  had  given  it  some  measure  of  pub- 
licity. Margaret  must  have  known  nearly  all  after- 
noon that  the  jury  was  deliberating,  and  his  fate  being 
decided.  She  would  be  glad,  of  course,  to  learn  his 
tidings,  but  certainly  they  would  not  come  with  the 
bewildering  amazement  he  had  foreseen. 

59 


THE  CONQUEST 

He  could  have  forgiven  Fate  these  harsh  discour- 
tesies, had  she  seen  fit  not  to  tamper  with  the  work- 
ings of  his  own  thoughts.  A  night  of  festivity — even 
a  betrothal  night — may  be  postponed  and  no  great 
harm  come  of  it.  But  there  was  a  perverse  force  at 
work  in  the  young  man,  which  he  could  neither  under- 
stand nor  contemplate  without  irritation  and  disgust 
He  was  not  in  the  habit  of  finding  himself  a  perplex- 
ing problem.  To-night,  however,  he  was  miserable, 
when  he  should  have  been  effervescently  happy;  de- 
spondent, when  he  should  have  been  enthusiastic;  a 
prey  to  doubt,  when  he  knew  he  ought  to  be  enrap- 
tured with  the  ardor  of  successful  love.  Perhaps,  he 
concluded,  it  was  the  reaction  from  his  physical  and 
mental  strain,  and  he  resolved,  in  spite  of  his  weari- 
ness and  the  cold  rain,  to  walk  home,  making  peace, 
if  he  could,  with  his  rebellious  mind  as  he  trudged 
along. 

A  cable  car  thundered  along  Fayette  Street  as  he 
braced  himself  against  the  keen  wind — its  lights  blurred 
in  its  rapid  rush  up  the  quiet  street.  Its  speed  in  that 
era  of  horse-cars  was  still  sufficiently  novel  to  arrest 
John's  momentary  attention.  Rapid  transit — such  was 
his  first  fleeting  thought — would  cause  accidents 
enough,  with  consequent  litigation,  of  which  he  could 
have  his  share;  his  next  reflection  was  that  he  must 
not  allow  himself  to  become  too  much  engrossed  in 
damage   cases.      Such   work,    if    carried   to   excess, 

60 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

might  make  it  more  difficult  for  him  to  find  clients 
whose  matters  involved  great  financial  problems.  These 
were  what  he  wanted  above  all  other  things,  and  what 
he  resolutely  meant  to  obtain.  That  way  lay  the  path 
to  power.  He  meant  to  be  a  power  in  this  city.  He 
meant  to  have  a  voice  in  the  control  of  its  commerce 
and  its  finance.  It  hardly  knew,  as  yet,  of  his  exist- 
ence, but  some  day  he  meant  to  be  its  master.  He 
had  made  a  beginning  and  the  process  had  been  pain- 
ful. He  thought  once  more  of  Mrs.  Martin  and  tried 
in  vain  to  forget  her.  Well,  if  he  couldn't  blot  her 
out  of  his  memory,  he'd  reason  the  thing  out.  She 
said  he  had  shattered  her  life  and  the  lives  of  her  hus- 
band and  boy,  besides.  He  probably  had.  Another 
lawyer  would  have  lost  the  case.  He  was  sorry,  bitterly 
sorry,  he  had  caused  her  such  pain,  but  as  he  strolled 
along  the  wet  streets,  it  seemed  perfectly  logical  that  he 
must  keep  on  doing  just  such  things.  "  To-morrow," 
she  had  gasped,  **  to-morrow  at  ten  they  will  do  such 
things  again." 

However  hysterically  it  was  phrased,  she  had 
chanced  on  the  truth,  when  one  came  to  analyze  it. 
He  must  crush  people  in  his  progress  toward  power, 
or  abandon  the  quest  altogether.  He  meant,  in  his  own 
way,  to  play  the  part  of  Destiny  in  this  inert  com- 
munity, as  yet  unconscious  of  the  advent  of  its  future 
monarch.  In  this  task  he  must,  of  necessity,  put  down 
the  mighty  men  of  finance  from  their  seats  and  exalt, 

6i 


THE  CONQUEST 

as  his  lieutenants,  those  of  low  degree.  Many  who 
must  be  hurled  from  their  comfortable  places  would  be 
men  of  pleasant,  cultured  lives^ — men  with  charming 
wives  and  daughters ;  but  these  effete  magnates,  grown 
ineffectual,  must  give  place  to  conquering  youth.  All 
of  them,  and  their  delicate  women,  would  suffer  as 
Mrs.  Martin  had  done — perhaps  much  more.  It  was 
agonizing  to  think  that  he  must  inflict  so  much  brutal 
agony,  but  it  was  certainly  inevitable.  Life  was  not 
such  a  flower-strewn  path  as  he  had  imagined.  Well, 
he  wasn't  going  to  permit  the  ache  of  it — his  own  or 
anyone  else's — to  swerve  him  from  his  purpose.  He 
would  steel  himself  to  watch  suffering  without  woman- 
ish tremors.  The  soldier  succeeded  in  this,  and  the 
surgeon ;  so  would  he.  Was  a  great  city  to  suffer  the 
inconvenience  of  horse-drawn  street  cars,  because  elec- 
tric and  cable  cars  were  sure  to  kill  and  mangle  care- 
less pedestrians?  It  was  morbid  nonsense.  The  road 
to  power  lay  open  before  him.  He  would  not  turn 
back.  His  purpose  grew  more  stern  and  fixed,  as  he 
sat,  snatching  a  hasty  meal,  in  the  little  basement  room 
on  Fremont  Street,  where  one  then  ate  oysters,  with 
a  marvellous  tang,  such  as  gray-bearded  men  now  tell 
their  smilingly  tolerant  children  can  no  longer  be 
drawn  from  degenerate  waters. 

A  few  minutes  later,  he  made  his  way  into  the 
boarding  house,  wet  and  weary  of  body,  but  with  a 
soul  as  desperate  and  inflexible  as  that  of  a  warrior 

62 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

who  knows  he  has  dedicated  his  Hfe  to  an  unrelenting 
war  of  conquest. 

"  He  looks  more  like  he  had  lost  his  case  than 
won  it,"  was  old  Mr.  Todd's  whispered  comment.  For 
the  news  of  the  jury's  verdict  had  preceded  him,  and 
his  reception  was,  to  his  mind,  grotesquely  anti-climatic. 
With  the  omission  of  Margaret,  who  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen,  the  entire  boarding-house  population  sur- 
rounded him  and  insisted  on  shaking  his  hand  and 
telling  him  how  each  of  them  had  always  foreseen,  with 
certainty,  his  success.  He  exerted  himself  to  be 
gracious  to  these  poor,  contemptible  creatures,  who 
persisted  in  irritating  his  overwrought  nerves,  and  per- 
haps not  one  of  them  realized  what  an  effort  he  was 
making.  There  was  nothing  occult  in  the  manner 
whereby  the  news  of  the  verdict  had  arrived.  Mrs. 
Randall  had  sent  the  negro  maid  to  the  nearest  drug 
store,  to  request  the  obliging  clerk  to  telephone  to  the 
office  of  The  Sun,  and  the  maid  had  returned  with 
the  momentous  tidings. 

John's  importance  in  his  little  world  had  imme- 
diately become  vastly  magnified.  Mrs.  Randall  had 
even  ordered  the  servant  to  put  aside  and  keep  warm 
his  supper,  until  he  should  come  home,  and  this  honor 
is  the  exact  equivalent  in  boarding-house  circles  of  the 
Victoria  Cross  in  British  military  life. 

John,  however,  declined  the  mark  of  signal  respect 
he  had  won.    He  would  not  partake  of  the  warmed- 

63 


THE  CONQUEST 

over  sui>per,  though  he  found  grace  to  appear  properly 
grateful.  What  he  wanted,  above  all  things,  was  to 
be  alone — away  from  the  chatter  of  shallow-brained 
derelicts,  who  failed  to  realize  the  repulsive  aspects 
of  victories — human  oxen  who  could  have  no  idea  of 
the  ruthless  career  of  giving  and  receiving  wounds  to 
which  he  now  felt  he  had  finally  committed  himself. 

As  he  climbed  wearily  up  the  creaky  stairway, 
Margaret's  door  was  opened  and  she  intercepted  him. 
He  didn't  catch  the  glimpse  into  her  room  of  which  he 
had  so  often  thought.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had 
forgotten  all  about  it.  She  had  been  waiting  for  him, 
and  her  welcome — however  dissimilar  to  his  imagin- 
ings— lacked  nothing  of  affectionate  warmth. 

"  Weren't  you  going  to  give  me  a  chance  to  tell  you 
I,  too,  am  glad?"  she  demanded,  with  a  reproachful 
smile, 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault  you  had  locked  yourself  in 
your  room,"  was  the  unfortunate  rejoinder  which 
almost,  but  not  quite,  sprang  to  his  lips. 

He  must  be  shaken,  indeed,  he  told  himself,  when 
he  felt  an  impulse  to  be  cross  with  Margaret,  and  he 
vigorously  took  control  of  himself. 

"  I  meant  to  talk  to  you  later,"  he  answered,  "  when 
all  these  babblers  were  out  of  the  way;  but  I  know 
you're  glad,  and  it's  good  to  have  you  tell  me." 

His  words  sounded  to  him  stupidly  conventional, 
so  he  clasped  her  hand  to  give  them  emphasis.     She 

64 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

did  not  seem  to  notice  the  absence  of  spontaneity  in  his 
response.  Her  eyes  shone  happily,  as  she  drew  her 
hand  away. 

"So  your  great  day  has  come!"  she  went  on, 
"  just  as  you  knew  it  would.  I  knew  it,  too.  But  you 
look  so  tired;  I'm  afraid  you're  not  enjoying  it  one 
bit." 

"  I  am  tired,''  he  conceded. 

The  absence  of  the  flowers,  the  supper  and  the 
celebration  did  not  seem  to  matter  to  her  at  all.  Per- 
haps she  had  never  thought  of  these  trappings  of 
victory.  Her  quiet,  but  imconcealed,  joy  seemed  to 
sparkle  in  her  eyes  and  smile.  She  seemed  so  glad 
because  of  this  triumph,  which  had  made  him  so 
wretched!  If  only  she  could  see  Mrs.  Martin,  he 
thought,  perhaps  she  wouldn't  be  exultant.  For  an 
instant,  he  linked  her  in  his  thoughts  with  the  silly 
chatterers  in  the  parlor  below,  who  could  see  only  the 
externals  of  life;  but  he  was  quick  to  remember  her 
gladness  was  because  of  him,  and  he  was  penitent  for 
his  unspoken  injustice. 

But  Margaret,  who  hadn't  talked  with  her  yoimg 
champion  for  a  long  week,  and  who,  therefore,  could 
not  guess  what  subtle  poison  was  working  in  his  veins, 
was  filled  only  with  a  charming  solicitude  for  his  weari- 
ness and  dejection.  Her  orders  were  at  the  same  time 
pleading  and  peremptory :  He  must  go  straight  to  his 
room  and  rest.     Anyone  could  see  how  he  had  been 

65 


THE  CONQUEST 

over-taxing  his  strength.  She  was  sorry.  There  were 
so  many  questions  about  the  trial  she  had  intended  to 
ask  him.  He  would  never  know  how  proud  of  him  she 
was !  but  all  this  must  wait  until  to-morrow. 

She  was  indeed  sorry;  that  was  evident.  She  had 
indulged  her  own  dreams  of  what  this  evening  was 
to  bring  forth,  and  though  roses  and  music  and  revelry 
had  played  no  part  in  them,  perhaps  she  was  all  the 
more  loath  to  await,  even  until  tomorrow,  the  happi- 
ness she  had  never  doubted  she  would  find  to-night. 

Still,  her  loss  brought  its  own  reward  with  it.  Even 
if  her  plans  were  somehow  set  awry,  there  was  an 
anticipatory  thrill  in  mothering  this  strong  man,  who 
could  master  judges  and  juries,  but  needed  her  to  tell 
him  how  much  his  worn  body  demanded  rest. 

He  noted  her  disappointment,  while  her  happiness 
in  missing  a  pleasure  for  his  sake  eluded  him.  In 
truth,  he  would  rather  have  wrestled  with  his  own 
spirit  in  solitude,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  would 
be  boorish,  besides  involving  a  confession  of  effeminate 
physical  weakness,  to  deny  her  this  hour  of  companion- 
ship for  which  she  had  so  winningly  admitted  her 
desire.  Perhaps,  too,  she  could  charm  away  the  brood- 
ing dejection  which  had  taken  complete  possession  of 
him. 

"  No,"  he  told  her,  "  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep  anyhow. 
It's  not  my  body  that's  tired.  I'll  get  into  some  dry 
clothes  and  by  that  time  the  house  will  be  fairly  quiet. 

66 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

Mrs.  Randall  will  be  in  the  parlor,  I  am  afraid,  but 
you  can  meet  me  in  the  dining-room,  and  we'll  talk 
awhile  before  bed-time.  It's  raining  too  hard  for  us  to 
go  out." 

She  made  no  effort  to  prevent  his  seeing  how 
pleased  she  was  at  his  decision.  "  I  know  you  ought 
not,"  she  began  dubiously,  "  but," — and  then  compro- 
mising with  her  doubts,  she  said  radiantly,  "  I'll  brew 
you  some  tea,"  as  though  that  would  set  everything  to 
rights. 

When  John  descended  to  the  dining-room,  he  found 
Margaret  had  been  awaiting  him  long  enough  to  have 
made  many  little  preparations  for  his  comfort.  She 
had  stirred  into  ruddiness  the  languid  fire  in  the  stove, 
drawn  in  front  of  it  the  least  uncomfortable  chairs  the 
room  boasted,  while  on  the  table  there  simmered  the 
miniature  samovar  she  had  brought  from  her  own 
room.  The  gas  lights  had  been  almost  extinguished 
and  all  that  could  be  done  to  make  cozy  an  ugly  in- 
terior had  been  attempted. 

Margaret  motioned  him  to  his  seat  beside  the  fire 
and  daintily  poured  him  a  cup  of  the  steaming  tea. 

"  My  lord  is  served,"  she  announced  gaily. 

He  thanked  her  soberly.  "  It's  absurd  of  me  to  let 
you  coddle  me  this  way,"  he  protested.  "  Fm  not  really 
more  tired  than  I  often  am.  It's  just  that  I've  been 
thinking  queer  thoughts,  and  they  worry  me." 

"  I  have  a  cure  for  that,"  she  assured  him,  her 
67 


THE  CONQUEST 

mothering  instinct  once  more  at  work.  "  You  have 
only  to  tell  these  thoughts  to  me." 

"  No,"  he  retorted  decisively,  "  they're  contagious. 
I*d  rather  talk  about  something  pleasant." 

She  felt  somehow  rebuffed  and  hurt  by  his  unwill- 
ingness to  trust  her  with  his  disquieting  fears,  whatever 
they  might  be,  and  for  a  short  space  silence  fell  be- 
tween them.  It  was  unfortunate  that  it  chanced  so. 
In  the  brief  pause,  John  had  time  for  a  vivid  memory 
of  Mrs.  Martin,  perhaps  at  this  instant  trying  vainly 
to  comfort  her  stricken  man,  and  of  the  long  succession 
of  other  women,  whose  hearts  he  was  to  smite,  through 
mates  who  might  attempt  to  bar  his  path,  without 
being  his  equals  in  strength. 

If  only  the  boy's  sense  of  humor  had  grown  apace 
with  his  intelligence  and  skill,  how  much  of  misery  he 
might  have  been  spared!  Had  he  enjoyed  the  faintest 
glimmer  of  a  feeling  for  the  ridiculous,  he  might  have 
laughed  at  the  sheer  absurdity  of  his  obsession.  He 
might  have  reflected  that  even  Attila,  the  Him,  had 
found  time  and  inclination  for  wassail,  as  well  as 
carnage,  and  that  the  great  Caesar  is  known  to  history 
as  a  conqueror  of  tender  hearts,  as  well  as  of  mighty 
armies. 

But  if  he  could  have  smiled  tolerantly  at  his 
own  bitter  seriousness,  he  would  not  have  been  John 
Howard,  aged  twenty-four. 

It  was  Margaret  who  broke  the  silence.  She 
68 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

would  not  let  her  petty  little  hurts,  given  by  the  thought- 
less words  of  a  troubled  man,  keep  her  from  helping 
him  to  shake  off  his  moodiness.  She  would  talk,  as 
he  bade  her,  of  something  pleasant. 

"  Well,"  she  began,  naturally  sounding  the  note 
which  should  have  pleased  and  flattered  him  most, 
"  let's  talk  about  your  case.  I  read  every  word  the 
newspapers  said,  but  I've  been  aching  to  have  you 
tell  me  all  about  it." 

She  could  have  suggested  no  topic  more  irritating 
to  his  morbid  mood.  Still,  he'd  have  to  talk  of  it  some 
time.  It  might  as  well  be  done  now.  He  replaced  the 
teacup  on  the  table  and  reluctantly  took  up  the  theme. 

"  I  don't  know  just  what  about  this  trial  would  in- 
terest you  most,"  he  suggested.  "  The  only  unusual 
things  that  happened  are  highly  technical." 

"  Everything  about  it  interests  me,"  she  assured 
him.  "  I  want  to  know  what  you  did,  and  what  you 
said,  and  what  everyone  said  about  you.  I  should  think 
you'd  be  bubbling  over  to  tell  about  it." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  her  interest  was  in  the 
actor,  rather  than  in  the  drama  itself.  He  was  vexed 
because,  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  rouse  himself  to 
respond  appropriately  to  her  candid  hero  worship. 

"  Well,"  he  explained,  "  the  really  difficult  element 
in  the  case  was  this :  Flynn,  my  client's  husband,  was 
found  dead  at  the  bottom  of  the  defendant's  elevator 
shaft.    There  were  only  the  slightest  bits  of  evidence 

69 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  indicate  how  he  got  there.  The  great  danger  was 
in  the  court's  holding  there  was  no  proof  legally  suffi- 
cient to  show  he  fell  down  the  shaft  and  did  so  as  the 
result  of  a  negligent  condition  of  the  premises.  Had 
the  judge  so  decided,  he  would  have  withdrawn  the 
whole  matter  from  the  consideration  of  the  jury,  and 
our  case  would  have  been  lost." 

He  was  speaking  the  labored  language  of  forensic 
argument,  when  he  should  have  been  telling  her  how 
Judge  Carey  and  Mr.  Nelson  had  applauded  his  skill. 
He  knew  he  was  doing  it,  but  the  technical  problem  he 
had  solved  was  the  only  element  involved,  upon  which 
he  could  now  dwell  without  distaste. 

She  interrupted  him,  in  evident  perplexity:  "I 
don't  understand  how  there  could  have  been  much 
room  for  debate  there.  Everyone  must  have  known 
the  accident  could  not  have  happened  in  any  other 
way." 

Poor  Margaret!  She  had  blundered  upon  almost 
the  identical  phrase  Mrs.  Martin  had  used  that  after- 
noon in  passing  judgment  upon  Man*s  scheme  of  law. 

Poor  John,  too !  Her  innocent  remark  almost  took 
his  breath  away.  She  would  think  of  him  exactly  what 
the  other  woman  had  thought  if  she  ever  learned  what 
his  tasks  really  meant.  Women,  in  their  judgments 
were,  after  all,  curiously  alike. 

She  would  never  understand  the  workings  of  his 
mind  or  of  his  ambitions.    His  life  with  her  would  be 

70 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

one  long  round  of  concealment  or  of  defensive  explana- 
tions— never  carrying  conviction. 

Unwittingly  she  went  on  to  demand  an  explanation 
of  the  situation  she  had  failed  to  grasp.  "  Tell  me,"  she 
said,  "  how  could  there  have  been  much  danger  to  you 
in  so  frivolous  an  objection?" 

His  feeling  was  that  of  definite  antagonism. 
"  Law,"  he  said  dryly,  "  is  a  technical  science.  One  of 
its  rules  is  that  a  plaintiff  must  prove  every  element  of 
his  case.  He  can't  eke  out  his  theory  by  any  sentimental 
assumptions.  The  court  would  not  presume,  without 
proof,  the  manner  and  circumstance  which  caused 
Flynn's  death."  His  manner  chilled  the  girl.  She 
saw  she  had  somehow  displeased  him.  She  became 
vaguely  conscious  that  her  power  over  him  had,  to- 
night, lost  its  charm.  She  was  troubled;  but  she 
spurred  herself  to  another  effort. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  not  clever  enough  to  understand 
all  the  subtleties,"  she  admitted  with  a  graceful  hu- 
mility, "  but  I  see  that  you  did  make  the  judge  take 
your  point  of  view,  difficult  as  it  was  to  do !  And  then 
you  made  a  splendid  speech  to  the  jury,  didn't  you? 
You  must  have,  to  have  won  so  big  a  verdict.  Mr.  Todd 
said,  at  supper,  it  was  the  biggest  verdict  he  could 
remember  any  Baltimore  jury  ever  giving." 

In  spite  of  himself,  John  warmed  a  little  at  the 
glow  of  her  enthusiasm  and  her  gentle  willingness  to 

7J 


THE  CONQUEST 

concede  the  superiority  of  his  judgment  in  reference  to 
the  mazes  of  law. 

"  I  didn't  make  what  the  casual  observer  would 
call  a  great  speech,"  he  informed  her.  "  I  worked  half 
of  last  night  to  rule  out  of  it  the  slightest  trace  of 
high-sounding  phrases.  You  know  I  have  always  be- 
lieved the  style  of  speaking  one  hears  in  our  courts  is 
all  wrong.  Neither  juries  nor  judges  really  like  spread 
eagle  oratory.  Lawyers  inflict  it  on  them  because  they 
enjoy  hearing  themselves  talk  in  such  a  fashion.  I'm 
always  going  to  talk  to  juries  as  though  I  were  the 
thirteenth  juror  and  w^anted  to  reason  the  problems 
out  with  them.  That's  what  I  did  to-day.  I  discussed 
the  weak  parts  of  our  case  with  as  much  candor  as  the 
strong  ones.  At  least,  I  made  them  think  I  did.  When 
I  played  on  their  feelings,  I  didn't  do  it  flagrantly.  I 
did  it  all  as  one  business  man  would  talk  to  another. 
I  never  let  myself  shout  at  them  as  old  Nelson  did; 
and  that's  why  I'm  going  to  win  cases  other  men,  with 
as  much  brains  as  I,  might  lose." 

It  was  this  kind  of  conversation  for  which  she  had 
been  eagerly,  and  rather  anxiously,  waiting.  At  last 
she  had  kindled  a  spark  of  enthusiasm  in  him,  and  with 
a  pathetic  elation  in  her  momentary  success,  she  strove 
to  fan  it  into  a  blaze. 

"  It's  all  the  more  splendid,"  she  asserted,  "  be- 
cause the  verdict  proves  your  theory.  It  means  more 
than  merely  winning  this  one  case.    YouVe  sure  to  win 

72 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

cases,  and  difficult  cases,  too,  if  clients  come  to  you; 
and  they  will  come ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  FU  have  no  trouble  getting  clients — 
valuable  clients,"  he  admitted  with  complacency.  "  You 
see,  I  have  my  own  system  there,  too.  It's  unethical 
for  a  lawyer  to  hunt  up  employers,  and  that  is  why,  in 
his  first  years  of  practice,  his  work  comes  from  people 
of  no  real  consequence.  I  don't  intend  to  let  this 
happen  to  me.  It's  perfectly  proper  for  a  lawyer  to 
organize  new  corporations  and  to  sohcit  important 
men  to  become  stockholders  in  them.  That's  what 
I'm  going  to  do.  I'll  get  to  know  the  people  who  do 
this  city's  work,  and  they'll  hold  shares  in  the  com- 
panies I  manage.  They'll  learn  to  trust  me  and  to 
send  me  plenty  of  business." 

Confidingly,  she  beamed  upon  his  boyish  assur- 
ance. His  egotism  did  not  shock  her.  She  ministered 
to  it  and  encouraged  it  without  one  scruple.  It  was 
part  of  his  splendid  virility,  she  thought. 

"  You're  so  sure  of  yourself,"  she  said.  "  I  wish.  I 
were,  but  every  time  I'm  tempted  to  be,  I  remember 
what  happened  to  me  last  time  I  let  myself  get  all 
puffed  up  with  pride.    Then  I  have  to  laugh  at  myself." 

John  could  not  remember  ever  having  laughed  at 
himself.  He  was  no  laughing  matter.  But  it  was  a 
harmless,  feminine  occupation  if  the  object  of  ridicule 
was  carefully  restricted  to  the  lady  who  chose  to  be 
merry.     He  began  to  forget  his  temporary  vexation. 

73 


THE  CONQUEST 

Margaret  was  not  so  unreasonable  after  all.  Perhaps 
he  would  be  able  to  make  her  accept  his  viewpoint. 

But  Margaret,  not  content  with  the  pause  which 
followed  John's  hymn  to  his  own  prowess,  in  her 
efforts  to  urge  his  thoughts  still  further  along  pleasant 
lines,  struck  the  exact  note  she  should  have  cautiously 
avoided. 

"Of  course,"  she  announced  unthinkingly,  "  Mrs. 
Flynn  must  be  tremendously  grateful.  You've  changed 
her  whole  life.  She  and  her  children  will  have  a 
chance  now;  and  this  Mr.  Martin  will  be  properly 
punished  for  his  carelessness.  You  can't  give  back 
to  her  the  poor  man  who  was  killed,  but  in  your  way, 
you've  been  a  sort  of  divinity  to  these  people,  reward- 
ing the  right  and  punishing  the  wrong.  It  ought  to 
make  you  very  happy  and  a  bit  solemn,  too — doesn't 
it?" 

Unconsciously,  she  had  applied  torture  to  his  fester- 
ing wound.  She  had  shown  her  inability  to  see  that 
good  people  had  to  be  injured  too,  and  that  he  had  to 
do  it — to  make  it  his  special  work,  in  fact.  She  would 
want  him  to  point  his  lance  only  at  those  she  could 
convince  herself  deserved  pain.  She  couldn't  see  any- 
thing bigger  than  mere  questions  of  sympathy.  Would 
she  always  be  making  his  battles  harder?  He  made 
an  effort  at  setting  her  right. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Margaret,  your  ideas  are  sentimental. 
One  can't  feel  any  bitterness  against  Mr.  Martin.    On 

74 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

the  contrary !  He  didn't  build  his  factory.  He'd  have 
had  a  better  one  if  he  could  have  afforded  it,  and  I  am 
sure  he'll  have  a  hard  time  now — he  and  his  little 
family.  Fm  very  sorry  for  him.  It  was  just  his 
misfortune  that  things  happened'  as  they  did."  He 
meant  to  elaborate  his  thought  further,  and  to  bring 
her,  if  he  could,  to  learn  what  it  meant  to  become  the 
bride  of  one  whose  life  was  to  be  dedicated  to  the  deal- 
ing of  blows.  But  she  broke  into  his  explanations 
with  her  own  solution. 

"  It's  because  you  are,  after  all,  so  kind,  that  you 
feel  for  this  man!  It's  like  you,  in  spite  of  your 
efforts  to  hide  it,  to  sympathize  with  anyone  in  trouble 
— even  when  he  deserves  it.  Why  are  you  always 
so  ashamed  to  let  people  know  how  good  you  are  ?  " 

In  one  swift  instant  John's  whole  world  reeled  and 
went  crashing  into  chaos.  What  was  he  to  do  with 
this  pretty  girl — saturated  with  ideas  of  trite  conven- 
tional morality!  He  could  never  convert  her  to  his 
own  stem  code.  That  he  should  adopt  hers  was  un- 
thinkable. There  was  not  even  any  neutral  ground 
of  compromise.  She  would  always  be  seeking  to  im- 
pose her  own  soft  and  impotent  ideas  of  conduct  upon 
him.  She  would  be  hurt  when  he  resisted.  She  would 
use  feminine  arts  to  win  him  from  his  plans — would  be 
a  burden  to  him — a  beautiful  one,  of  course,  but  some- 
thing to  hamper  and  weaken  him,  ever  striving  to  stay 
his  arm  when  destiny  bade  him  strike  and  strike  hard. 

7S 


THE  CONQUEST 

Margaret,  however,  assuming  his  silence  arose  from 
mere  embarrassment  at  hearing  himself  praised,  went 
on  blindly,  to  enlarge  upon  this  beloved  theme. 

She  spoke  with  a  happy  shyness,  as  though  his 
goodness  in  some  sort  reflected  credit  upon  her,  too, 
and  there  was,  therefore,  a  trace  of  indelicacy  in  her 
boasting  of  it. 

"  I  think,"  she  murmured,  "  because  in  your  austere 
way  you  are  so  good,  that  it's  almost  providential  you're 
to  be  given  so  much  power.  I  don't  know — I  suppose 
it's  too  early  even  for  you  to  know  just  what  you'll  do 
with  it — but  I'm  sure  you'll  put  it  to  some  big  use. 
You'll  do  something  to  make  the  State  or  the  city 
better  and  the  people  happier.  You  won't  admit  it. 
You'd  say  it  was  sentimental,  but  when  the  time  comes, 
you'll  do  it,  and  you'll  scowl  at  anyone  who  dares  to 
praise  you." 

What  malignant  fate  kept  tempting  her  to  empha- 
size how  completely  she  misunderstood  him?  Would 
she  never  stop  giving  him  thrust  after  thrust,  under 
the  guise  of  perfect  love?  Now  she  was  planning  to 
snatch  from  him  the  fruits  of  his  victory,  if  by  any  im- 
possible chance  he  should  attain  it  in  spite  of  her.  She 
would  not  be  content  with  standing  between  him  and 
the  enemy.  Should  he  win  his  long  campaign,  she 
would  always  be  striving  to  degrade  it  into  the  stuff 
of  which  moral  tracts  are  made.  His  dominance  must 
be  put  to  the  uses  she  approved;  he  must  utilize  it  to 

76 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

serve  the  lesser  men  he  had  conquered.  She  would 
never  learn  that  Power — Mastery — 'Was  an  end  in  it- 
self. She  would  never  learn  anything  he  considered 
really  vital.  It  would  be  worse  than  madness  for  him 
to  link  his  life  with  this  soft,  appealing  bundle  of 
attractive  virtue  and  blindness.  It  wasn't  merely  be- 
cause she  would  make  him  unhappy.  The  giving  and 
suffering  of  unhappiness  seemed  to  be  his  portion.  But 
it  would  ruin  his  chance — his  wonderful  opportunity  to 
mould  his  city's  commercial  life.  No  one  must  be 
allowed  to  do  that,  no  matter  what  the  cost. 

But  she  would  be  so  miserable  if  he  forsook  her. 
He  knew  it.  He  would  have  undergone  anything  to 
save  her  the  pain  he  knew  he  was  about  to  inflict — 
anything  except  the  abandonment  of  the  path  he  felt 
he  could  not  travel  with  her  by  his  side. 

He,  himself,  had  taught  her  to  love  him — this  gentle 
creature,  whose  only  flaw  was  her  weakness.  It  was 
her  very  pliability  and  worship  of  him  which  convinced 
him  of  the  impossibility  of  thrashing  out  the  whole 
matter  with  her  and  giving  her  a  chance  to  make  her 
own  choice  as  to  her  future.  To-night,  filled  as  she 
was  with  her  unreasoning  love  for  himself,  she  would 
accept  any  lot  or  any  theory  he  might  see  fit  to  im- 
pose; but  her  own  standards  would  sooner  or  later 
assert  themselves.  Her  nature  was  molded  altogether 
of  sympathies  and  unreasoning  compassions.     How 

77 


THE  CONQUEST 

could  these  elements  be  blended  with  his  own  ruthless 
force  ? 

He  recognized  a  certain  dishonor  in  what  he  was 
about  to  do,  but  he  told  himself  he  had  never  before 
realized  his  problem.  He  had  supposed  he  might  be 
allowed  to  enjoy  the  simple,  domestic  happiness  granted 
to  other  and  lesser  men.  His  sudden  knowledge  had 
come  too  late  to  spare  her — or  to  spare  himself  either. 
He  would  suffer  no  less  than  she; — ^he  was  suffering 
unspeakably  now. 

She  was  so  pretty ;  so  appealing.  She  never  seemed 
more  beautiful  to  him  than  at  this  moment,  when  he 
planned  to  hurt  her  so  desperately.  He  wanted,  above 
all  things,  to  gather  her  in  his  embrace  and  comfort 
her  in  the  woe  she  did  not  yet  know  was  to  fall  upon 
her.  He  desired,  with  actual  physical  craving,  to  feel 
her  lips  against  his  own ;  but  the  price  was  too  high ! 
The  cost  was  giving  up  everything  of  importance  in 
his  universe. 

He  groped  about  for  the  least  painful  way  of  deal- 
ing the  wound.  He  would  say  good-night,  and 
promptly.  He  couldn't  talk  to  her  again.  Each  time 
she  looked  at  him,  with  her  glance  full  of  unspoken, 
but  unhidden,  affection,  he  would  suffer  the  pangs  a 
weaker  man  could  not  know.  He  would  leave  Mrs. 
Randall's  house  next  day,  while  Margaret  was  away 
at  school.  He'd  find  quarters  elsewhere.  She  would 
never  demand  any  explanations.     He  had,  after  all, 

78 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

never  spoken  to  her  of  love.     She  would  have  pride 
enough  to  be  silent.    He  had  no  fears  on  that  score. 

What  he  planned  seemed  cowardly,  of  course,  and 
above  all  things,  John  hated  to  think  himself  a  coward. 
He  felt  keenly  the  need  of  some  word  of  explanation 
with  Margaret,  so  she  might  know  he  had  not  merely 
been  playing  at  love,  or  was  not  tossing  her  aside  be- 
cause his  affection  had  been  a  light  or  transient  one. 
He  resisted  this  impulse,  because  he  decided,  after  all, 
silence  would  be  less  cruel  to  her.  It  was  in  this  spirit 
that  he  rose  painfully  to  say  a  good-night  that  should 
be  for  all  time  farewell. 

"  I'm  more  tired  than  I  thought,  Margaret,"  he 
said,  trying  to  make  his  voice  seem  commonplace.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  must  ask  you  to  send  me  to  bed.'' 

So  her  evening  was  to  end,  after  all,  without  the 
longed-for  word  of  love!  She  could  not  but  think  it 
would  have  been  easy  for  him — no  matter  how  worn  his 
brain  and  his  body — to  have  spoken  one  phrase  trans- 
lating into  speech  the  beautiful  legend  she  was  sure 
gave  purpose  to  his  life,  even  as  it  did  to  her  own.  But 
men  were  less  subtle  in  their  cravings  than  women. 
She  would  be  content.  There  would  be  to-morrow! 
She  could  not,  however,  banish  her  thought  altogether 
from  her  speech. 

"  Good-night,"  she  responded,  as  she  gave  her  hand 
to  his  clasp.    "  There's  so  much  more  I  had  hoped  you 

would  tell  me,  but  to-morrow,  perhaps " 

79 


THE  CONQUEST 

Her  tones  and  her  face  were  full  of  happy  yearn- 
ings. She  was  so  young,  so  transparent — and  showed 
with  such  freedom  from  coquetry  how  much  he  meant 
to  her.  With  her  warm,  eloquent  hand  in  his  own,  he 
suddenly  felt  himself  weakening — he,  who  could  never 
afford  to  be  weak! 

Couldn't  they  be  happy  together,  if  only  for  a 
little  while?  Couldn't  they  live  through  a  brief,  won- 
derful idyl,  even  if  disillusionment,  ,misimderstanding 
and  discord  were  sure  to  follow  when  his  career  should 
begin  in  earnest?  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  give  her 
one  supreme  springtime  of  joy,  though  he,  himself, 
would  be  facing  the  secret  certainty  of  the  inevitable 
parting  of  their  ways,  just  one  stage  of  the  journey 
ahead ! 

His  revulsion  came  quickly  and  with  unbounded 
force.  No!  He  couldn't!  Why  put  off  for  a  few 
months  a  misery  better  faced  to-night?  Why  wait 
imtil  they  were  further  committed  to  each  other — 
their  lives  hopelessly  tangled  in  a  web  of  circumstance  ? 
She  certainly  would  never  love  him  less  after  mar- 
riage, no  matter  how  his  will  and  her  hopes  should 
clash.  She  was  not  a  woman  who  would  stop  loving. 
The  deserted  wife  would  be  even  more  wretched  than 
the  forsaken  maiden.  It  was  immeasurable  folly  upon 
whose  brink  he  had  stood.  He  would  put  himself  at 
once  beyond  the  possibility  of  its  repetition. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  can't  be  to-morrow,"  he  announced 
80 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

sternly.  He  could  feel  his  heart  thumping  madly,  and 
he  felt  sick  with  the  horror  of  what  he  was  doing,  but 
he  never  faltered. 

"  You  see,  I  think  my  first  step  should  be  to  take 
up  quarters  in  a  part  of  the  city  where  I  shall  meet  the 
people  I  want  to  interest  in  my  schemes.  It  will  be 
hard — not  being  able  to  see  you  every  day.  I'll  miss 
you." 

He  had  done  it!  How  he  had  found  strength  to 
go  through  with  his  work  he,  himself,  did  not  know. 
As  for  Margaret,  she  looked  for  one  instant  as  though 
she  could  not  comprehend.  Perhaps  his  words  meant 
something  less  sinister  than  the  interpretation  her  dizzy 
mind  told  her  she  ought  to  give  them.  With  hurt  and 
wistful  eyes,  she  searched  his  face,  but  its  grim,  set 
lines  tore  from  her  the  last  shred  of  hope.  There  was, 
in  that  first  moment,  more  of  amazement  than  of 
anguish  in  her  thoughts.  What  had  she  done — where 
had  she  offended,  that  she  was,  without  warning,  to  be 
so  mercilessly  punished  ? 

Then  the  full  realization  of  her  woe  broke  upon  her, 

and  she  struggled  desperately  to  preserve  a  tearless 

dignity.     He  was  going  away;  he  was  never  coming 

back.     He  didn't  want  her  any  longer.     He  had  been 

planning  to  get  rid  of  her.    He  was  doing  it  all  of  his 

own  will.    The  man  she  had  loved  so  confidingly — so 

whole-heartedly — it  was  he,  himself,  who  wished  her 

to  suffer — ^his  Margaret,  whose  dearest  hope  had  been 

8i 
6 


THE  CONQUEST 

to   spend   a   lifetime  shielding  him  from   all   harm. 

All  the  many  women  of  the  past,  whose  lovers 
have  ridden  carelessly  off  to  the  wars,  without  one 
word  to  solace  the  maids  they  had  lightly  taught  to 
love  them,  stood  by  Margaret's  side  in  that  minute  of 
torture  and  sustained  and  strengthened  her  in  her  effort 
to  be  calm — to  be  true  to  the  instinctive  code  of  her 
sex;  to  make  no  weak  appeal  for  mere  pity;  to  give 
no  sign  of  pleading  that  he  would  not  cast  aside  the 
great  dower  of  love  she  had  been  treasuring  for  him. 

And  at  the  end,  she  was  calm — almost  heroic.  Pale 
and  proud,  she  could  stand  rigidly  and  speak  without 
a  tremor.  She  could  even  force  to  her  lips  a  smile,  so 
gallant  and  full  of  pathos,  that  had  she  wished  to 
revenge  herself  upon  John  with  most  usurious  interest 
for  the  anguish  he  had  laid  upon  her,  the  desire  would 
have  been  all  too  well  accomplished. 

"  Good-night  then,  and  good-bye,"  she  said  in  even, 
though  slightly  strained,  tones,  "  I'll  miss  you,  too. 
We  must,  at  least,  think  of  each  other." 


VI 

Hours  later,  in  his  dark  room,  John  lay  in  bed, 
gazing  blankly  at  the  pale  yellow  patch  of  light  thrown 
upon  his  wall  by  the  street  lamp  just  opposite  his 
window.  His  eyes  obstinately  refused  to  remain 
closed ;  his  tired  body  and  racked  mind  rebelled  at  the 
suggestion  of  sleep.  He  had  almost  abandoned  the 
hope  of  it.  H  he  could  only  stop  thinking,  or  failing 
that,  if  he  could  merely  control  the  trend  of  his  imagin- 
ings, he  would  be  content;  but  as  though  his  punish- 
ment were  to  be  conducted  according  to  some  definite 
and  altogether  logical  scheme,  he  was  compelled  to 
think  only  of  Margaret,  of  the  Margaret  whom  he  had 
ruthlessly  thrust  away  from  him.  How  still  it  was  in 
her  room,  just  below  him!  How  wonderful  that  she 
could  bear  her  share  of  the  pain  so  silently !  He  had 
heard  her  door  close  only  a  few  minutes  after  he  had 
reached  his  own  room.  He  had  heard  the  faint  tinkle 
of  her  teacups  as  she  had  returned  them  to  their  shelf. 
Then  he  had  waited,  in  mingled  dread  and  certainty, 
for  the  moment  when,  relieved  from  the  necessity  of 
restraint,  she  should  feel  free  to  weep  for  the  loss  of 
the  illusion  he  had  been  forced  to  shatter;  for  the  in- 
tense happiness  he  had  laid  in  her  hands,  only  to  snatch 
away.  No  such  sound  ascended  to  him,  only  a  few  soft 
foot- falls,  and  then  silence — a  long  and  fateful  silence. 

83 


THE  CONQUEST 

Even  now,  he  knew  with  absolute  certainty  sleep 
had  not  come  to  her  aid.  He  dared  not  believe  it. 
She  was  keeping  vigil,  like  himself.  With  all  her  weak 
and  maudlin  ideals,  it  seemed  then  that  she,  too,  had 
her  own  strength.  She  would  suffer  in  silence,  rather 
than  let  him  have  tangible  evidence  of  her  wound. 
How  pitiful  it  was  and  what  a  useless  strain  she  was 
imposing  upon  her  poor  self!  As  if  she  might  not 
have  known  how  well  he  could  anticipate  her  every 
thought,  her  every  pang.  If  she  could  only  hate  him 
with  a  fierce,  burning  hatred!  If  her  love  could  only 
turn  to  loathing !  Then  she  would  have  been  thankful 
as  she  realized  how  narrowly  she  had  escaped  giving  all 
her  young  loveliness  into  the  care  of  a  monster.  Why 
hadn't  he  had  sense  enough  to  make  himself  repellent 
to  her?  Why  hadn't  he  disgusted  her  utterly?  Then 
she  might  have  turned  from  him,  not  he  from  her,  and 
she  would  not  be  enduring  this  bitter  humiliation. 

He  had  been  blind — he  who  was  so  clever!  If  he 
could  only  live  this  one  night  over  again,  how  much  he 
might  have  spared  her ! 

Not  that  he  had  been  wrong  in  his  decision  against 
their  marriage.  He  had  gone  over  and  over  again  in 
his  mind  all  the  arguments.  He  could  not  discover 
any  flaw  in  his  conclusion.  Such  a  marriage  would 
bring  exactly  the  disaster  he  had  foreseen,  and  ought 
to  have  foreseen  long  before.  He  pleaded  with  him- 
self to  say  he  had  been  wrong,  for  he  still  wanted  her, 

84 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

no  whit  less  passionately  than  before, — all  the  more 
because  she  was  suffering  the  torments  he  had  inflicted, 
— all  the  more  because  of  the  gallant  courage  with 
which  she  had  borne  them.  And  she  would  still  for- 
give him.  Only  a  tender  word  of  explanation,  a  pro- 
test that  he  had  acted  from  a  desire  to  save  her  from 
sharing  what  seemed  to  him  a  desolate  life,  a  hint  of 
his  night  of  remorse  and  despair,  and  she  would  be 
his  once  more — irrevocably  his. 

To  the  cry  of  his  spirit,  however,  his  mind  returned 
a  vigorous  denial.  With  merciless  logic,  his  trained 
intellect  led  him  in  imagination  from  miles;tone  to 
milestone  of  his  future  life,  showing  him  just  where 
and  how  and  why  this  girl  would  make  impossible  his 
darling  projects,  and  bade  him  choose  now  and  forever 
between  Power  and  dull  domestic  contentment. 

At  last,  he  felt  he  must,  at  all  cost,  exert  himself 
to  cease  thinking  about  this  disaster.  He  was  making 
himself  ill.  What  good  could  that  do  either  of  them? 
He  tried  to  repeat  rules  of  law,  to  think  out  problems 
in  mathematics;  he  tested  the  virtues  of  the  hundred 
devices  he  had  heard  of  for  inducing  sleep.  Always, 
do  what  he  might,  his  fancy  would  return  to  the  thought 
of  the  beautiful,  sorrow-stricken  girl  in  the  room  be- 
low him.  He  remembered  having  heard  somewhere 
that  if  one  could  steadfastly  keep  his  eyelids  open, 
refusing  to  relax  them  even  for  an  instant,  slumber 
would  surprise  one.     He  would  try  it.     He  stared 

8S 


THE  CONQUEST 

fixedly  at  the  patch  of  light  on  the  wall.  Soon,  Mar- 
garet's face  appeared  there — Margaret  as  she  had 
seemed  when  he  first  saw  her  on  this  accursed  even- 
ing, glowing  with  the  joy  of  his  success.  As  he 
looked,  her  face  changed,  and  now  she  wore  the  ex- 
pression of  surprised  anguish  which  had  followed  his 
brutal  words  of  farewell ;  and  now  she  was  smiling  the 
brave,  piteous  smile  of  the  condemned.  An  instant 
later,  the  bloom  began  to  fade  from  her  face.  The 
lines  of  youth  began  to  sag  and  droop.  Wrinkles 
appeared  here  and  there.  The  eyes  grew  dimmer,  and 
she  became  transformed  into  Mrs.  Martin,  staring  re- 
proachfully at  him,  as  sher  announced  she  would  rather 
strangle  her  little  boy  than  have  him  enter  upon  John's 
"  detestable  trade." 

He  could  not  stand  it  a  second  longer.  He  sprang 
from  the  bed  and  hurriedly  lit  his  lamp.  The  genial 
glow  restored  him  somewhat  to  calmness  and  sanity. 
It  was  penetratingly  cold  in  the  room.  The  icy  rain 
beat  dismally  on  the  tin  roof  just  above  his  head.  He 
hurriedly  closed  the  window,  tore  the  blanket  from 
the  bed  and  wrapped  it  about  his  shoulders. 
Then  he  seated  himself  mournfully  at  his  study  desk. 
Perhaps  he  would  feel  better  if  he  wrote  Margaret  a 
note — not  a  hysterical  letter,  but  a  word  of  real  kind- 
ness, which  might  remove  at  least  one  element  of  her 
humiliation.  At  any  rate,  it  would  be  better  to  attempt 
this  than  to  lie  there,  a  prey  to  uncontrolled,  hideous 

86 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

fancies,  until  morning  should  come.  He  drew  a  sheet 
of  paper  from  his  desk  and  very  slowly  and  deliberately 
wrote : 

Dear  Margaret: 

I  know  you  must  be  miserably  unhappy.  I  am  no  less  so. 
All  night  long  I  have  been  struggling  with  my  own  feelings  and 
picturing  to  myself  how  grotesque  it  seems  that  I  should  have 
injured  you,  whom  I  wanted,  above  all  things,  to  protect.  It 
wasn't  because  I  made  you  love  me  without  giving  love  in  re- 
turn. I  still  love  you — I  dare  not  tell  you  how  much — now  that  I 
have  lost  you; — but  to-night,  I  became  certain  I  could  never 
make  you  happy.  I  can't  explain  why,  but  I  know  our  marriage 
would  mean  misery  to  us  both.  The  reason  of  this  is  not  your 
fault;  on  the  contrary,  it's  partly  because  you're  too  good,  and 
I'm  not  good  enough — at  least,  not  as  you  would  understand 
goodness.  This  is  not  my  fault  either.  I  cannot  change  myself. 
I  ought  to  have  seen  this  sooner.  I  wish  poignantly  I  could 
have  borne  it  alone. 

Forgive  me,  if  you  can,  and  forget  me,  if  you  find  it  pos- 
sible. But  if  you  can't  forget  me,  remember  that  not  one  bit  of 
the  fault  is  yours ;  that  I  always  loved  you  and  always  shall,  and 
that  I'm  going  to  spend  a  lifetime  being  sorry  for  the  mis- 
fortune I  have  brought  upon  you. 

Hef  was  about  to  sign  it  "  Your  own,  John,"  but  he 
paused.  He  was  not  hers  any  longer.  He  had  decided, 
and  wisely,  that  he  ought  never  to  be  hers.  "  John," 
without  any  softening  phrase,  sounded  cold  in  a  note, 
written,  above  all  things,  to  bring  comfort.  He  left 
the  letter  unsigned,  and  read  it  over  again  critically. 

"  It  won't  do,"  he  muttered  gloomily,  ''  it  sounds 
as  though  there's  some  mystery.  She'd  want  to  unravel 
it.    She'd  insist  if  I  still  love  her,  she'd  take  her  chances 

87 


THE  CONQUEST 

with  me.  How  can  I  tell  her  she'd  be  in  my  way?  If 
I  send  that  note,  she'll  come  back  to  me !  And  if  I  send 
any  note  at  all,  unless  it's  curt  and  harsh,  it  will  keep 
her  all  the  longer  from  ceasing  to  care  for  me.  I 
ought  not  to  seem  kind.  I  ought  to  seem  a  devil  in- 
carnate !    I  believe  perhaps  I  am." 

With  sharp  decision,  he  tore  the  note  into  little 
shreds,  and  rose  wearily  from  his  desk.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  notice  that  his  mirror  reflected  the  face  and 
figure  of  the  morning  before.  He  had  been  sure  this 
night  had  added  years  to  his  age.  He  would  never  be 
"  the  Howard  boy  "  again.  The  morning  would  find 
that  boy,  with  all  his  youth  fulness,  with  all  his  sen- 
sitive charm,  had  died. 

With  the  quality  of  this  new-found  and  premature 
middle-age,  there  came  a  new  resolution  and  an  assur- 
ance that  the  worst  of  his  unhappiness  had  gone — to- 
gether with  his  lost  boyishness.  With  stern  determina- 
tion, he  extinguished  the  light,  and  re-opening  the 
window,  stood  there  an  instant  in  the  darkness  of  the 
early  winter  morning. 

Away  off  in  the  distance,  the  low  whistle  of  a 
train  wailed.  The  first  faint  hum  of  re-awakened  city 
life  was  borne  along  the  rain-swept  streets;  the  soft 
melody  of  bells  from  the  great  market  place  near  the 
city's  heart  announced  that  the  world  of  men  was  once 
more  about  to  enter  on  its  eternal  task  of  sale  and 
barter — of  conquest  and  defeat — of  hope  and  despair. 


THE  PLAN  OF  BATTLE 

It  called  to  John.  It  was  his^ — waiting  for  him 
to  enter  and  take  possession.  His  city !  This  capricious 
vixen,  with  her  old  world  beauty,  whom  he  meant  to 
scourge  into  meek  submission,  even  while,  in  his 
haughty  way,  he  gave  her  all  his  love. 

He  strode  to  the  bed  with  a  new-found  courage, 
recovered  from  among  the  ashes  of  his  more  human 
love.  As  he  crept  beneath  the  coverlet,  there  came  to 
his  ears  another  and  more  startling  sound.  Was  it  one 
of  the  noises  of  the  city,  or  was  it — as  he  feared — a 
stifled,  but  racking,  sob?  For  an  instant,  he  strained 
his  ears  to  make  sure,  but  it  did  not  come  again.  With 
a  vehemence,  almost  angry,  he  wrapped  the  blanket 
about  his  head,  so  that  he  could  neither  see  nor  hear. 

Then,  as  though  he  could  command  nature  herself 
if  he  would  but  remember  his  strength  and  his  purpose, 
he  awaited  quietly,  and  with  stern  confidence,  the  com- 
ing of  sleep. 


BOOK  II 
THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE,  A.  D.  1898 


A  BRILLIANT,  sunlit  moming  in  early  springtime, 
found  John  Howard  briskly  walking  toward  his  offices 
on  East  Lexington  Street — an  older  John  Howard 
than  the  boy  who  had  triumphantly  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion the  case  of  Flynn  against  Martin,  and  thereby 
discovered  some  odd  phases  in  his  own  character.  Six 
years  of  vigorous  working  and  planning  had  rushed 
past  since  that  day,  but  Time  had  taken  from  him, 
as  yet,  little  visible  toll.  The  man  of  thirty  was  as 
slender,  and  perhaps  even  more  attractive  in  appear- 
ance, than  the  boy  of  twenty- four  had  been.  Ha 
patch  of  white  hair  showed  at  each  temple,  it  simply 
added  a  touch  of  the  unusual  to  the  ruddy  complexion 
and  firm  lines  of  countenance  of  early  maturity. 

The  streets,  that  morning,  were  full  of  life  and 
movement.  Only  a  short  distance  from  the  office  door, 
with  all  the  noise  and  bustle  typical  of  American  con- 
struction methods,  work  was  progressing  upon  the  pre- 
tentious new  court-house,  now  nearing  completion. 
The  outworn,  old  structure  where  John  had  first  learned 
what  it  really  meant  to  try  a  case,  had  been  swept 
away  in  the  march  of  progress,  and  it  seemed  much 
of  its  stately  tradition  had  been  brushed  aside  in  its 
destruction;  but  the  new  era,  like  the  new  building, 

93 


THE  CONQUEST 

was  to  be  spacious  and  magnificent,  and  John,  for  one, 
indulged  in  no  mawkish  regrets. 

This  morning,  however,  the  ordinary  street  noises 
and  the  clank  of  the  metal  workers  were  mingled  with 
a  strange  note — a  note  so  unusual  that  even  the  busy 
young  lawyer  paused,  with  half  quizzical  interest,  to 
give  it  attention.  The  sharp  tap  of  drum  beats  and 
the  tramping  of  many  feet  were  heard  coming  down 
Charles  Street.  Suddenly,  there  sounded  the  shrill 
prelude  of  a  fife,  and  an  instant  later,  the  music  of 
"  Dixie  "  crashed  upon  the  air,  only  to  be  blended  with 
enthusiastic  shouts  from  hundreds  of  throats.  For  it 
was  war  time,  and  Maryland's  sons  were  eagerly  march- 
ing forth,  as  they  lightly  imagined,  to  crush  the  strength 
of  Spain  and  transform  our  nation  into  a  world  power. 

John  Howard  had  no  idea  of  going  off  to  war. 
There  were  more  exciting  things  to  be  done  here  at 
home;  more  important  things,  too.  For  his  own  atti- 
tude toward  the  crisis  was  somewhat  contemptuous. 
The  nation,  he  had  concluded,  was  suffering  from  a 
mild  attack  of  hysteria.  It  would  do  the  coimtry  no 
harm  to  rid  itself,  by  vigorous  exercise,  of  its  nervous 
excitement.  Moreover,  hysteria  was  sometimes  a 
symptom  foretelling  strange  changes  in  national  growth 
and  structure.  For  his  part,  he  meant  to  be  a  vital 
influence  in  controlling  these  developments  and  in 
twisting  them  to  his  own  uses. 

He  was  thoughtful  for  a  minute,  as  he  watched  the 

94 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

boyish  faces  file  joyously  past,  each  aglow  with  youth 
and  enthusiasm,  as  though  there  were  no  such  things 
in  the  world  of  war  as  pestilence,  misery  and  death. 
Then  he  pushed  through  the  throng  and  entered  his 
offices.  They  were  situated  in  a  rejuvenated  old  dwell- 
ing house,  now  neatly  re-painted  and  bearing  on  the 
outer  doorway,  among  many  other  similar  legends,  the 
sign  board: 


Howard  &  Chase 
attorneys  at  law 


His  rooms  were  on  the  first  floor  of  the  building. 
In  the  happier  days  of  the  history  of  that  house,  before 
the  Civil  War  had  laid  its  blight  upon  the  lavish  hos- 
pitality of  Southern  slave-holding  aristocracy,  they 
had  constituted  the  parlor  and  drawing-rooms  of  a 
home  famous  for  the  witty  men  and  lovely  women  who, 
night  after  night,  were  gathered  together  by  its  courtly 
host  and  hostess.  If  any  old  mansion  is  haunted  in 
the  watches  of  the  night  by  vengeful  ghosts,  banished 
during  noisy  daytime  hours  by  the  sacrilegious  din  of 
commerce,  it  should  be  these  old  office  buildings,  where 
busy  and  uncouth  men  snap  out  momentous  decisions 
about  mortgage  debts  and  damage  suits  within  the  very 
walls  which  once  heard  only  the  sounds  of  brilliant 
revelry  and  whispered  words  of  real  or  pretended  love. 

John's  offices  certainly  gave  no  hint  of  their  former 
high  estate  of  cultured  leisure.    They  were  full  of  the 

95 


THE  CONQUEST 

clatter  and  rush  of  business.  A  girl  was  feverishly 
pounding  away  at  a  typewriter.  At  another  desk  a 
second  typewriting  machine  stood  idle.  A  boy,  of  per- 
haps eighteen,  was  busily  sorting  mail,  only  to  be  in- 
terrupted by  'the  tinkle  of  the  telephone,  attached  to 
the  wall,  where  all  telephones  were  rigidly  fastened 
at  that  time. 

John  hurried  into  his  own  room,  and  had  hardly 
seated  himself  at  his  desk  when  his  partner,  Arthur 
Chase,  rushed  in  and  dropped  into  a  seat  beside  him. 

Arthur  was  slightly  John's  junior  in  years,  and 
many  years  younger  in  aggressiveness,  force  and  busi- 
ness insight.  He  was  a  pleasant,  comfortable,  but 
rather  purposeless,  young  man,  just  beginning  to  grow 
a  trifle  stouter  than  was  really  necessary  and  amusingly 
disconcerted  because  of  it. 

"  Hello,  John ! ''  was  his  greeting,  "  Miss  Frank 
hasn't  come  in  yet." 

*'  No,  I  guess  not,"  John  answered  absently,  be- 
ginning to  open  his  morning's  mail.  "  I  told  her  she 
might  come  late  this  morning.  I  kept  her  here  until 
half  past  eleven  last  night.  I  was  dictating  the  new 
Trust  Company's  organization  papers,  and  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  I've  got  them  into  just  the  right  shape. 
We'll  have  some  powers  in  our  charter  that  will  make 
the  old  companies  gasp  when  they  wake  up  to  their 
possibilities,  about  five  years  from  now." 

96 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

*'  Half  past  eleven !  "  Arthur  exclaimed  uncomfort- 
ably. 

'*  Yes,  half  past  eleven/'  John  repeated.  "  While 
you  were  in  bed  rapidly  sleeping  away  your  beautiful 
young  slimness,  I  was  here,  earning  gold  and  glory 
for  you — ^you  lazy  brute!  Now  get  out  of  here  and 
let  me  work." 

He  turned  again  to  the  pile  of  letters  on  his  desk. 

"  Not  yet,"  Chase  announced  triumphantly.  "  First, 
I  am  going  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  your  prematurely 
gray  head  by  telling  you  some  good  news — really  good 
news!  Besides,  I'm  not  getting  fat.  I  weighed  only 
this  morning.    I  haven't  gained  an  ounce." 

*'Huh!"  John  snorted,  incredulously,  "if  your 
news  isn't  more  accurate  than  your  scales,  you  may 
keep  it  to  yourself." 

"  But  it  is,"  Arthur  protested — correcting  himself 
as  he  caught  the  import  of  John's  grin — "  I  mean  both 
are  reliable.  You've  won  the  tax-easement  case.  We 
got  a  wire  from  Annapolis  this  morning." 

"  That  is  good  news,"  John  said,  enthusiastically. 
"  Won't  old  Cameron  be  pleased !  I  swore  to  him  we'd 
win  it,  but  he  had  his  doubts.  If  the  Court  of  Appeals 
had  betrayed  my  guileless,  trusting  faith,  I'd  have  been 
done  for  with  the  traction  crowd  for  ten  years.  I'd 
have  been  driven  to  crime.  I'd  have  put  the  whole 
court  to  a  lingering  death  by  slow  oratory,  and  gone  off 
to  poor,  suffering  Cuba  to  drown  my  sorrows  in  blood." 

97 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  The  newspapers  will  take  a  jab  at  the  court  in 
another  fashion,"  was  Chase's  comment.  "  The  de- 
cision will  add  three  cents  to  the  general  tax  rate.  The 
public  will  be  charmed." 

"  That's  the  smallest  of  my  woes,"  John  proclaimed 
cheerfully.  "  If  the  pubhc  cares  to  win  cases,  it  should 
employ  the  eminent  firm  of  Howard  &  Chase.  Even 
at  that,  I  believe  we'd  find  it  more  profitable  to  work 
for  Cameron." 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  fat  fee  in  this  case,"  Chase 
suggested,  somewhat  more  soberly.  "  I  hope  you  won't 
have  any  acute  attack  of  modesty  when  you  come  to 
fix  the  figure.  My  wife's  been  begging  me  for  months 
to  buy  that  cottage  at  Mt.  Washington,  and  this  looks 
to  me  like  a  genuine  smile  of  fortime." 

John's  face  grew  grave  as  he  answered : 

"  I  ought  to  have  talked  to  you  about  that  before. 
The  fee  is  going  to  be  the  biggest  one  we  ever  col- 
lected, but  I  am  afraid  your  cottage  will  have  to  wait." 

Arthur  Chase  looked  across  John's  desk  in  chal- 
lenging expectancy,  and  John  went  on  with  his  ex- 
planation. 

"  You  see,"  he  stated,  with  finality,  "  I  promised 
Cameron  if  he'd  subscribe  for  that  block  of  stock  in 
the  new  Trust  Company,  we'd  apply  our  whole  fee  in 
the  easement  case  to  buying  stock  ourselves;  and  he 
said  if  we  won  the  case,  he'd  do  it." 

There  was  silence.     Chase  seemed  trying  to  say 
98 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

something  that  should  be  strong  enough  to  be  effective 
against  his  overbearing  partner,  and  yet  not  too  strong, 
— not  as  full  of  anger  as  his  mood  demanded.  Mean- 
while, John,  detecting  symptoms  of  rebellion,  struck 
in  with  words  intended  to  preserve  peace. 

"  I  can  see  you're  not  happy  about  it,  Arthur,  and 
Tm  as  sorry  as  you  are  to  disappoint  your  wife.  But 
we  had  to  do  it.  If  you  would  take  Helen  into  your 
confidence  a  little  and  make  her  understand  the  fight 
we're  making,  and  the  stake  we're  playing  for,  she'd 
be  more  glad  to  do  her  part  than  you  seem  to  be.  Or, 
if  you  won't  talk  to  her  along  these  lines,  let  me." 

"  I  can't  talk  to  her  along  those  lines,"  Arthur  said, 
in  hot  resentment,  "  because  I  don't  see  your  point  of 
view  myself.  Every  year  we've  made  more  money 
than  we  had  any  right  to  expect,  and  every  year  we've 
skimped  along,  buying  shares  in  corporations  which  are 
going  to  earn  dividends  some  day,  and  land  companies 
with  land  the  street  car  lines  will  reach  the  year  after 
next,  and  banks  which  expect  us  to  apply  all  our  divi- 
dends to  buying  more  and  still  more  stock.  This  year, 
it's  a  new  Trust  Company!  Meanwhile,  we've  lived 
like  paupers.  Every  time  my  wife  needs  a  new  frock, 
or  the  baby  wants  a  toy,  we  have  to  go  on  a  desperate 
hunt  for  the  money,  as  though  we  were  street  beggars. 
The  books  showed  last  year  my  share  of  the  profits  to 
be  nine  thousand  dollars,  but  all   I   really  got  was 

99 


THE  CONQUEST 

twenty-nine  hundred.  Oh,  I  know  you  give  me 
two  dollars  for  every  one  you  spend  on  yourself !  But 
that  makes  it  all  the  worse.  The  time  has  come  when 
we  have  a  right  to  get  some  of  the  worth  of  our 
money." 

John  listened  patiently,  but  inflexibly.  "  You've 
got  to  talk  sense,  Arthur,"  he  insisted.  ''  Here,  by 
the  grace  of  the  good  Lord,  we  get  old  Cameron  for  a 
client.  We  only  got  him  because  everybody  else  in 
town  with  any  standing  had  told  him  he  had  no  chance 
to  win  his  appeal.  I  worked  like  a  slave  over  his  case, 
and  got  him  into  a  rare  good  humor.  He's  the  most 
important  man  in  the  traction  crowd,  not  only  because 
he's  so  rich  but  because  he's  in  a  position  to  influence 
all  the  other  groups  which  control  money.  Why,  a 
man  like  Cameron  on  the  Board  of  Directors  of  a 
Trust  Company  means  success  almost  without  effort! 
He  isn't  the  sort  of  man  who  would  let  his  stock  get 
worthless.  He'd  make  his  friends  subscribe  and  send 
it  profitable  business.  Now,  when  I  urge  him  to  buy 
stock  and  he  asks :  '  How  much  are  you  going  to  put 
in  ?  '  what  should  I  have  answered  ?  Could  I  have  said 
'  Nothing,  but  we  expect  to  be  general  counsel,  any- 
how.' Or,  do  you  think  it  would  have  been  good 
policy  to  say :  *  We'd  like  to  hold  stock,  but  we're  too 
poor'?" 

"  Then  why  don't  we  sell  some  of  our  other  hold- 
ings? "  Arthur  demanded.    "  We  can't  afford  to  carry 

lOO 


THE  HEAT  OF  SATTLfe      ' '' ' '''  *•  A 

so  much  in  mere  prospects.  I  want  some  comfort  now, 
while  I'm  young  and  can  enjoy  it/' 

John  answered  him  as  indulgently  as  though  the 
younger  man  were  his  unruly  pupil.  "  We  can't  let  go 
of  anything  now,  partly  because  none  of  our  companies 
are  old  enough  to  have  developed  their  possibilities,  and 
therefore,  no  one  would  buy  our  interests;  but  still 
more,  we  have  to  continue  to  hold  them,  because  every 
one  of  our  investments  ties  some  important  man,  like 
Cameron,  to  us.  We're  laying  a  solid  foundation  for 
a  unique  success  and  you  grudge  me  the  money  for 
the  concrete.  You're  not  really  pinched  for  money. 
You  can  afford  to  be  a  bit  economical.  It's  only  for 
a  few  years  more.  You  can  see  I  had  to  use  the  ease- 
ment fee.  I'm  pretty  sure  to  win  that  ejectment  case 
of  Thurston's,  and  you  may  have  your  share  of  what 
he  pays  in  cash." 

"  That  will  be  only  about  five  hundred  dollars," 
Chase  retorted.  "  What  makes  me  wild  is  your  habit 
of  settling  all  these  things  yourself.  You  don't  even 
do  me  the  honor  to  consult  me.  I  have  to  be  satisfied 
with  your  decisions.  I  suppose  you'll  answer  you  do 
all  the  work,  too.  At  least,  all  but  routine  work;  and 
so  you  do,  but  that  doesn't  make  it  any  better  for  me. 
You  never  trust  me  to  attempt  anything  of  conse- 
quence. I'm  a  dependent  here — a  person  of  no  impor- 
tance— an  office  boy!    My  only  title  to  self-respect  is 

lOI 


'  "•  •  • '  • ' '  • ''  •  •  *  •  •  THE-  CONQUEST 

that  the  allowance  .you  pay  is  mostly  in  promises,  in- 
stead of  cash/' 

If  Chase  had  hoped  to  rouse  his  partner  to  an 
anger  similar  to  his  own,  he  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. John  heard  him  out,  with  a  quiet  patience, 
almost  contemptuous.  When  Chase  had  subsided,  he 
said  authoritatively: 

"  Now,  look  here,  Arthur,  you're  too  old  to  talk  so 
childishly.  You  don't  seem  to  have  the  faintest  con- 
ception of  what  we're  doing,  and  how  we  have  to  go 
about  it.  It's  true  we  make  plenty  of  money  for  men 
of  our  age;  but  what's  become  of  the  old  lawyers,  who 
made  more  money  than  we  do,  and  followed  your 
theories  of  spending  it?  They  lived  well,  worked  hard, 
gave  place  to  younger  men  while  they  still  needed 
money  and  wasted  their  last  years  picking  up  crumbs 
on  the  strength  of  their  former  reputation.  That's 
not  my  ideal  of  old  age,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
wouldn't  be  content  with  making  a  lot  of  money  and 
investing  it  in  four  per  cent,  bonds.  I  mean  to  be  a 
much  bigger  factor  in  the  financial  district  than  Cam- 
eron himself.  You  knew  all  this  from  the  beginning. 
You  knew  we  couldn't  do  it  in  a  year,  nor  in  five  years, 
and  you've  no  moral  right  to  whine  because  I'm  doing 
just  what  I  told  you  I  should. 

"As  for  the  work,  I  let  you  do  whatever  I  think 
you're  able  to  do.  You  know  you  can't  try  cases,  and 
you  know  you  never  could  understand  the  first  elements 

102 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

of  finance.  You  admit  these  things  yourself.  You're 
going  to  get  your  full  share  of  all  the  benefits  of  our 
struggle.    The  least  you  can  do  is  not  to  hamper  me." 

"  You're  so  obstinate,  John,"  Arthur  informed  him, 
beginning  to  repent  of  his  display  of  bad  temper.  "  I 
realize  I  ought  to  let  you  do  what  you  please  about 
most  things;  but  you  will  be  ruled  about  nothing.  I 
wanted  to  economize,  here  and  there,  on  office  expenses. 
That's  your  one  extravagance.  You  wouldn't  even 
hear  of  it,  although  I'm  supposed  to  be  the  office  man- 
ager, not  you.  You  insisted  on  high-priced  quarters ; 
you  must  make  an  impression  on  your  clients.  You're 
not  content  with  one  stenographer ;  you  must  have  two. 
Better  men  than  we  are  still  sending  out  letters  written 
with  a  pen." 

*'  There  are  no  better  men  than  we  are,"  John  re- 
plied, but  he  laughed  as  he  said  it.  Six  years  had  at 
least  given  him  the  outward  semblance  of  humor. 

"  Now  listen,  Arthur,"  he  continued,  good-natur- 
edly. "  We've  wasted  enough  time  this  morning.  The 
whole  issue  is  this :  I'm  thinking  of  the  future.  You 
won't.  Colossal  things  are  going  to  happen  all  over 
this  country.  Business  and  finance  and  law  are  going 
to  change.  They  won't  go  on  in  the  old  way.  Wait 
till  this  trumpery  little  war  ends,  and  you'll  begin  to 
notice.  I  can  see  it  coming  already.  Now,  who's  going 
to  profit  by  these  changes  ?  Shall  it  be  you  and  I,  or 
somebody  else?    I've  made  up  my  mind.    I  shall  have 

103 


THE  CONQUEST 

my  share,  whether  you  toss  away  your  chance  or  not, — 
but  I'd  hate  to  see  you  miss  your  opportunity.  You'll 
laugh  at  me,  and  I  can  see  myself  it  sounds  rather 
funny,  but  the  truth  is,  your  opportunity  is  John 
Howard.  I've  made  a  beginning.  I'm  already  hand 
iri  glove  with  some  men  who  count.  That's  not  so 
easy  for  a  man  of  only  thirty.  If  I  play  my  game 
carefully — and  you  can  be  sure  I  shall — I'll  be  able  to 
use  those  who  can  help  me  and  gradually  to  shove  out 
of  the  way  those  who  can't.  In  five  years  more^ — seven 
at  the  most — I'll  be  the  ruling  power  in  this  city.  We'll 
control  the  more  important  banks,  the  trust  companies, 
the  street  railways,  all  the  big  enterprises.  I'll  sit  at 
my  desk  and  pull  the  string  that  will  make  things 
happen." 

His  eyes  gleamed,  but  they  woke  no  corresponding 
glow  in  Arthur  Chase. 

"  Perhaps  you  will,  John,"  he  admitted,  discontent- 
edly, ''  but  it  will  be  you — not  I.  Why  should  I  be  will- 
ing to  give  up  the  best  days  of  my  youth,  living  on  short 
rations,  so  that  at  thirty-seven  your  insatiable  vanity 
may  be  satisfied  ?  " 

John  answered  with  his  first  show  of  real  irritation : 

"  Don't  call  it  vanity !  It's  not  vanity !  And  that's 
what  I'm  going  to  do  whether  it  meets  your  approval 
or  not.  I'd  be  sorry  to  break  with  you,  but  you  can't 
expect  me  to  become  a  pokey  old  village  lawyer.     J 

|0f 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

won't  do  it.  If  you  can't  make  up  your  mind  to  go 
my  way,  we'll  have  to  part  company." 

"  But  you'd  keep  all  our  clients,"  Chase  protested, 
"  even  those  who  were  mine  at  the  beginning.  You 
know  there  isn't  one  of  them  who  wouldn't  rather  have 
you  now,  and  you've  done  the  work  all  alone,  so  that 
I'd  never  learn  how  to  do  it,  even  if  I  got  the  chance." 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  John  retorted,  brutally.  "  You 
couldn't  have  held  any  of  our  clients  who  were  worth 
while,  even  if  I'd  never  been  born.  Fancy  yourself 
drawing  this  Trust  Company  charter.  You'd  have 
copied  somebody  else's  old  form.  Cameron  would 
never  have  consulted  you  a  second  time.  You  need 
me,  or  someone  like  me,  to  tell  you  what  to  do.  Given 
proper  directions,  you're  a  valuable  man,  and  I'd  be 
the  last  person  to  agree  with  your  silly  talk  about  being 
my  office  boy.  The  time  will  come  when  we  need  a 
director  in  nearly  every  big  corporation  in  town,  and 
then  you'll  be  still  more  useful  to  me;  but  now  and 
always,  you've  got  to  play  the  game  my  way,  and  you 
might  as  well  malce  your  choice. 

"  You  can't  say  either  that  I  wasn't  frank  with  you 
from  the  beginning.  If  you  remember,  what  I  said  to 
you  was :  '  See  here,  Chase,  I  can  try  cases ;  you  can't. 
I  can  draw  unusual  papers;  you  haven't  the  knack. 
You  have  family  connections  which  could  be  made 
valuable,  but  you  don't  know  how  to  go  about  it.     I 

J05 


THE  CONQUEST 

have  no  family  at  all.  Let's  join  forces,  and  I'll  show 
you  how  to  grow  rich.'  '* 

Chase  nodded  an  unwilling  acquiescence. 

"  Well,  then,"  John  continued,  sternly,  "  I've  done 
my  share.  I've  given  the  firm  a  reputation  for  winning 
most  of  the  cases  it  tries,  and  refusing  to  try  most  of 
the  cases  it  can't  win.  I've  drawn  charters  and  deeds 
of  trust  and  bond  issues,  such  as  you  don't  find  in  form 
books.  Fve  used  your  family  connections  to  put  us  in 
touch  with  men  you  never  would  have  met, — much 
less  gained  for  clients, — if  you  hadn't  had  me  for  a 
partner.  And  now  we're  in  sight  of  success.  If  it's 
money  you  want,  you  shall  be  gorged  with  it.  You 
know  that's  the  least  part  of  what  I  have  been  fighting 
for,  but  it  means  a  lot  to  you,  and  if  you've  any  sense, 
you'll  stay  here  and  get  your  share.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  you  try  to  break  up  my  plans,  you've  got  to 
get  out,  whether  your  clients  will  follow  you  or  not, 
and  you'd  better  do  it  now!  I  don't  intend  to  have 
my  career  shattered  because  you  can't  wait  a  year  or 
two  to  move  to  the  suburbs.    It's  too  absurd !  " 

In  the  midst  of  his  harsh  lecture,  John  paused,  and 
broke  into  a  smile. 

"  This  war's  got  into  our  blood,"  he  stated.  "  We 
don't  seem  to  be  able  to  talk  without  sobs  and  heroics. 
Don't  let's  squabble  any  more.  It's  absolutely  useless. 
You  know  I  always  have  to  have  my  own  way.  It's 
my  one  redeeming  vice.  I'll  plead  guilty  to  being 
obstinate  and  anything  else  you  want,  but  you  know 

196 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

I'll  play  fair.  If  I  weren't  trying  to  deal  squarely  with 
you,  my  cue  would  be  to  get  rid  of  you  at  once,  and 
keep  for  myself  all  our  future  profits,  instead  of  divid- 
ing them.  As  you  pointed  out,  I've  already  gained  the 
full  benefit  of  your  social  position,  but  there's  no  such 
idea  in  my  head.  So  smile  at  me  pleasantly  and  tell  me 
I'm  a  beast,  but  that  you  can't  help  liking  me  somehow. 
Blame  the  whole  thing  on  me  when  you  talk  to  Helen, 
and  tell  her  you'd  throw  me  over  in  a  minute,  if  you 
weren't  sure  I'd  give  her  a  steam  railroad  for  a  tenth 
wedding  anniversary  present.  You  might  also  ask  me 
up  to  dinner  to-night.  Helen  has  much  more  respect 
for  me  than  you  have,  or  than  she  has  for  you,  for 
that  matter.  When  I  leave  your  house,  she'll  come  to 
you  and  beg  you  to  let  her  discharge  the  baby's  nurse 
and  give  her  wages  to  me  for  investment." 

John  turned  once  more  to  his  neglected  mail  and 
began  methodically "  opening  envelope  after  envelope, 
hastily  running  his  eye  over  the  contents  of  each  letter. 
It  seemed  that  the  interview  was  over.  Chase  rose  to 
leave  the  room,  apparently  reconciled  to  submission. 

"  I  don't  want  Helen  to  discharge  the  nurse,"  was 
his  parting  shot,  "  but  you're  such  a  plausible  devil, 
I'm  afraid  if  she  listens  to  you  long  enough,  she'll 
discharge  me." 

"  You're  safe,"  John  answered,  smiling  at  him 
frankly  over  the  top  of  a  letter,  "  I  won't  use  my 
eloquence  to  lure  Helen  from  you.  Send  me  a  stenog- 
rapher instead." 

107 


11 

The  stenographer  had  not  yet  begun  taking  John's 
dictation,  and  Arthur  Chase  had  hardly  been  seated  in 
his  own  room,  when  the  clerk  brought  him  a  message, 
asking  him  to  return  to  John's  office.  Mr.  Howard 
wanted  to  talk  to  him  at  once. 

"  First  you  drive  me  out  of  here,  and  then  you 
fetch  me  back,"  he  grumbled,  paying  no  attention  to 
John's  significant  glance,  intended  to  remind  him  of 
the  stenographer's  presence. 

"  You  may  go.  Miss  Stewart,"  he  told  her.  "  I'll 
dictate  these  letters  later  in  the  morning.  I  want  to 
talk  to  Mr.  Chase  now.  Sit  down,  Arthur,"  John 
ordered,  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  retreating  girl. 
"  I  have  sorpething  bad  to  offset  your  good  news." 

He  placed  in  Arthur's  hand  a  letter,  which  ran: 

Messrs.  Howard  &  Chase, 
Attorneys  for  the  Monumental 
Cotton  Duck  Company, 
East  Lexington   Street, 
City. 
Dear  Sirs: 

In  view  of  the  prevaiHng  conditions  of  unrest  in  the  business 
world,  due  to  the  war  and  the  resultant  demands  made  upon  us  by 
our  customers,  we  feel  that  we  shall  be  unable  to  carry  longer  the 
indebtedness  due  us  by  the  Monumental  Cotton  Duck  Company. 
We  are  really  overwhelmed  by  applications  for  loans,  and  have 
decided  that,  in  justice  to  ourselves,  our  available  capital  ought  to 

io8 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

be  placed  at  the  disposal  of  depositors  whose  accounts  are  more 
active  and  whose  borrowings  are  intended  to  meet  the  seasonal 
demands  of  typical  mercantile  enterprises.  The  Monumental 
does  not  seem  to  us  to  fall  within  this  group.  Its  indebtedness 
to  us  is,  in  fact,  part  of  its  working  capital  and,  in  our  opinion, 
ought  to  form  part  of  its  funded,  rather  than  its  floating,  debt. 
We  are,  therefore,  giving  you  timely  notice  of  our  desire 
that  the  next  note  of  the  corporation,  amounting  to  $25,000,  and 
falling  due  ten  days  hence,  be  paid,  instead  of  being  renewed. 
We  also  desire  the  three  succeeding  notes,  of  similar  amounts,  to 
be  met  at  maturity. 

We  are  sending  a  similar  notice  to  the  Treasurer  of  the  Com- 
pany. 

Very  truly  yours. 

The  Twelfth  National  Bank 
OF  Baltimore 
By  John  M.  Reynolds, 

Cashier. 


Chase  read  the  letter  carefully  and  whistled  a  low 
note  of  annoyance.  "  It's  exasperating,  isn't  it?  "  was 
his  comment. 

"  Exasperating,"  John  exclaimed,  "  you  might  as 
well  call  an  earthquake  exasperating." 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  Arthur  said,  "  it  isn't  as  bad  as 
all  that.  You'll  get  it  straightened  out  somehow,"  he 
added,  with  confident  faith  in  John's  invincible  re- 
sourcefulness. 

John  stared  straight  ahead  of  him  with  a  troubled 
expression.  "  I've  got  to  get  it  straightened  out  some- 
how, but  I  swear  I  don't  see  how.  The  Monumental 
can't  go  on  without  the  money  it  owes  the  bank.  It 
can't  even  pay  its  debts  and  quit  solvent,  and  yet  its 

109 


THE  CONQUEST 

prospects  were  never  brighter.  I  have  almost  worked 
out,  through  Scanlon  in  Washington,  a  scheme  to  get  it 
a  share  of  the  army  contracts.  In  two  years,  its  stock 
will  be  worth  par,  but  to-day  it  simply  needs  every 
penny  it  can  beg,  borrow  or  steal.  To  pay  off  even 
part  of  its  debts  is  impossible.  It's  hard  enough  to 
pay  the  interest.    It  would  mean  bankruptcy." 

"  Well,'*  Arthur  suggested,  ''  there  are  other  banks 
in  the  city,  aren't  there  ?  " 

John  met  the  question  with  another. 

"  Didn't  you  ever  read  the  organization  papers  of 
the  Monumental?  "  he  demanded, — **  its  certificate  of 
incorporation,  the  deed  of  trust  securing  its  bonds  and 
its  prospectus?    I  remember  telling  you  to  read  them." 

"  Yes,"  Arthur  replied,  uncertainly,  "  I  read  them, 
but  I'm  afraid  they  didn't  mean  much  to  me." 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  they  didn't,"  John  agreed.  "How- 
ever, they're  going  to  mean  a  good  deal  to  you  now. 
We  can't  get  the  money  from  any  other  bank,  because 
the  first  thing  we'd  be  asked  for,  would  be  a  statement. 
We're  in  no  position  to  make  a  new  statement  at  this 
time.  The  present  condition  of  the  company  would 
not  tally  with  the  organization  scheme.  The  common 
stock  is  mostly  water.  The  bonds  cover  property  not 
yet  worth  half  the  debt  it's  supposed  to  secure.  The 
property  will  be  worth  all  of  it,  and  more,  in  a  year  or 
two,  but  it  isn't  to-day.     If  we're  let  alone,  there's  a 

no 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

fortune  in  the  mills.  If  we're  pushed  hard  now,  we're 
in  for  an  awful  crash." 

Both  partners  thought  in  silent  intensity  for  a  few 
minutes.  Then  the  facile  Arthur  gave  birth  to  an  idea. 

"  John !  "  he  exclaimed  excitedly,  "  I've  got  the 
solution !  You  must  charge  Cameron  twenty-five  thous- 
and dollars  as  a  fee  in  the  easement  case,  tell  him  we 
can't  put  the  money  into  the  trust  company,  and  pay  it 
to  the  bank." 

In  spite  of  his  perplexity,  John  indulged  in  the 
smile  one  wears  when  a  favorite  child  says  something 
particularly  quaint. 

"  Really,  Arthur,"  he  said,  with  good-humored 
scorn,  "  some  day,  when  you  thrust  an  insane  remark 
like  that  at  some  harassed  devil,  who  lacks  my  mag- 
nificent self-control,  he  will  seize  a  paper-weight  and 
crush  in  your  skull,  just  to  find  out  what  it's  lined  with. 
Haven't  you  sense  enough  to  see  that  if  we  could  tear 
twenty-five  thousand  in  cash  out  of  Cameron  in  ten 
days,  and  break  our  promise  to  him,  we  would  just 
have  lost  his  good  will  without  any  benefit  to  us  ?  Two 
weeks  later,  another  note  for  the  same  amount  will 
fall  due.  How  will  you  pay  that?  And  there  will  be 
two  more  notes  after  the  second  one.  We'd  have 
killed  off  Cameron  and  thrown  away  our  money,  with- 
out saving  the  Monumental.  You'd  have  put  off  its 
bankruptcy  just  two  weeks." 

"  Well,"  Chase  admitted,  shamefacedly,  "  I  guess 
III 


THE  CONQUEST 

I'm  wrong.  It'll  have  to  smash  then,  that's  all  I  can 
see.  Our  stock  didn't  cost  us  much.  We'll  just  charge 
it  off  as  a  loss." 

John  Howard's  face  clearly  showed  his  utter  in- 
ability to  understand  how  any  man  could  look  at  a 
problem  and  understand  so  little  of  its  meaning. 

"  Arthur,"  he  sighed,  "  sometimes  I  almost  despair 
of  making  you  into  a  millionaire.  You  can't  wash  your 
hands  of  a  thing  like  this,  or  calmly  abandon  it,  as  you 
would  a  burnt-out  cigar.  I  organized  this  company. 
I  financed  it.  I  induced  Berg  &  Company  to  sell  its 
bonds.  I  got  our  clients  to  put  their  money  into  it. 
If  the  mills  close  down,  the  whole  scheme  of  its  or- 
ganization will  be  attacked.  I'll  be  the  scapegoat, 
although  what  I  did  will  be  called  brilliant  if  the  com- 
pany makes  money.  I  only  did  the  same  things  ievery 
other  successful  organizer  does,  but  if  the  mills  fail, 
everybody  who  has  lost  a  dollar  in  the  matter  will 
blame  it  on  me.  I'll  be  thought  an  unsafe  man.  We 
would  never  recover  the  groimd  we'd  lose.  All  the 
new  connections  I  have  worked  so  hard  to  form  will  be 
snapped  at  one  blow.  I  simply  must  find  some  way 
out." 

"Can't  we  borrow  some  money  somewhere?" 
Chase  suggested,  more  timidly  this  time.  ''If  you  paid 
the  bank  part  of  the  debt,  you  could  gain  time,  maybe, 
and  float  some  more  bonds,  just  as  the  bank  in  its 
letter  seems  to  suggest." 

112 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

**  That  idea  has  sense  in  it/'  John  assured  him,  as 
though  anxious  to  encourage  him  to  further  thought. 
"  It  occurred  to  me,  too.  But  we  can't  work  it.  We 
can't  borrow  any  money  without  hurting  ourselves 
with  men  who  ought  to  be  led  to  think  we  can  raise  all 
the  cash  we  need.  We  can't  borrow  much,  anyhow. 
It's  a  bad  time,  in  the  midst  of  a  war,  to  try  to  sell 
bonds,  and  most  important  of  all,  even  if  we  could 
borrow  part  of  the  debt,  we  wouldn't  be  given  any 
indulgence  by  the  Twelfth  National.  The  bank  doesn't 
really  want  us  to  pull  out  of  this  hole.  At  least,  its 
cashier  doesn't,  and  he's  in  complete  control  there  now. 
I've  been  thinking  for  some  time  Reynolds  was  anxious 
to  cause  as  much  trouble  as  he  could  for  us.  He  knows 
I  believe  him  to  be  a  weak  man,  and  he's  been  noticing 
the  growth  of  our  influence  with  the  directors.  Two 
of  the  board  are  already  friends  and  clients  of  ours, 
and  I  suppose  he  thinks  we  lead  them  to  criticise  his 
policies.  He  has  sense  enough  to  know  I  want  to 
control  the  bank  some  day  and  that  if  he's  still  there 
when  that  time  comes,  he  won't  be  there  many  minutes 
afterwards.  He  decided  this  was  his  chance  to  get  us 
out  of  the  way  once  and  for  all. 

"Of  course,  the  bank  will  lose  some  money  if  the 
Monumental  goes  to  the  wall,  and  it  won't  lose  a  penny 
if  we're  left  in  peace,  but  the  bank's  loss  won't  trouble 
Reynolds.    It  will  even  help  him.    He'll  be  able  to  say 

113 


THE  CONQUEST 

smugly  he  knew  from  the  beginning  the  loan  wasn't 
safe.'' 

"  How  about  going  over  his  head  ?  "  Arthiu*  asked. 

"  You  know,  as  well  as  I,  the  President  of  the  bank 
is  a  nonentity.  Old  Cameron  is  the  largest  stockholder, 
but  he's  been  too  busy  with  other  things  to  give  the 
bank  much  individual  attention.  I  couldn't  go  to  him 
with  this  story.  He  hates  people  who  ask  him  for  help, 
and,  besides,  he'd  want  to  know  about  the  entire  trans- 
action. After  he'd  heard  it,  he  would  tell  me  Reynolds 
was  quite  right.  The  Monumental  didn't  deserve  to 
have  a  dollar  of  any  bank's  money,  because  it  isn't  a 
solid  enterprise,  and  in  the  future,  I'd  never  be  able  to 
use  him  in  my  plans." 

"  You  speak  of  Cameron,"  Arthur  struck  in  irri- 
tably, "  as  though  he  were  an  ambassador  direct  from 
Heaven.  It's  always  Cameron!  This  would  annoy 
him,  the  other  thing  would  displease  him.  This  affair 
of  the  Monumental  is  vital.  Let's  make  Cameron  pull 
us  out  of  it,  even  if  we  can't  ever  use  him  again." 

John  shook  his  head.  "  Cameron  isn't  a  man,"  he 
argued,  "  who  can  be  used  against  his  will.  You  have 
to  make  him  think  there's  some  interest  of  his  own  at 
stake.  There  isn't  here.  Our  success  is  nothing  to 
Cameron.  The  more  powerful  we  grow,  the  bigger 
fees  we'll  charge  him.  He  understands  that  perfectly 
well.  And,  anyhow,  he's  the  key  to  our  whole  situation 
in  this  city.    If  we  can  make  proper  use  of  him,  we're 

114 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

in  a  position  to  learn  everything  we  need  to  know 
about  conditions,  and  to  find  the  beginning  point  for 
every  scheme  we  plan.  Without  Cameron  we'd  have 
to  fight  him  imtil  he'd  been  imseated  and  then  find 
someone  of  our  own  to  take  his  place.  That  would  take 
too  long." 

John  lapsed  again  into  silence.  After  a  long  time, 
he  resumed  the  discussion  of  their  dilemma. 

"  Somehow  and  in  some  way  Reynolds  has  to  be 
frightened  into  leaving  this  line  of  credit  tmdis- 
turbed.  There's  no  use  in  pleading  with  him.  He'd 
chortle  with  glee  if  he  could  be  sure  how  good  his 
chance  is  to  cripple  us.  And  there's  no  use,  either,  in 
trying  to  get  another  bank  to  lend  us  the  money  with- 
out demanding  a  statement.  The  effort  wouldn't  suc- 
ceed. Reynolds  might  learn  of  it  and  it  doesn't  sound 
businesslike.  We're  trying  to  create  a  reputation  for 
being  business  men — and  keen  ones.  Besides,  the 
Twelfth  National  is  our  logical  point  of  attack.  We 
hold  stock  in  it.  We're  going  to  dominate  it.  There- 
fore, I've  got  to  make  Reynolds  understand  his  slim 
chance  of  keeping  his  job  depends  on  pleasing  me." 

"If  you  could  only  get  Cameron  to  intercede  for 
us,"  Chase  moaned. 

"  Nonsense !  you  don't  frighten  men  with  inter- 
cession. If  I  could  make  Reynolds  think  Cameron 
would  punish  him  for  getting  in  my  way — ^but  he 

"5 


THE  CONQUEST 

knows  the  old  man  too  well  to  believe  he*d  use  his 
power  merely  to  give  a  lift  to  an  utter  stranger. 

"  Anyhow,  that's  our  problem  boiled  down.  It's 
like  the  Sphinx's  riddle.  I  f  we  don't  solve  it,  it  swallows 
us  alive — body  and  bones !  We  can  go  off  to  the  war 
for  all  the  use  we'll  be  here  for  the  next  ten  years. 
Perhaps  when  nobody  can  remember  what's  become  of 
the  Monumental  Cotton  Duck  Company  we  can  slink 
back  in  our  middle  age,  and  try  to  do  again  what  we 
spent  six  years  failing  to  do  while  we  were  young. 
No  sir,"  he  ripped  out  with  deadly  earnestness,  "  I'm 
not  going  to  let  a  driveling  old  fool  like  Reynolds  spoil 
my  plans,  just  so  he  may  hold  on  to  his  miserable, 
pottering  little  job.  I've  had  too  hard  a  time  getting 
this  far  to  be  bowled  over  now.  I'm  going  after 
Reynolds." 

"  But  how?  "  Chase  demanded.  "  For  the  Hfe  of 
I  can't  see  how." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  John  retorted.  "  I  can't  tell 
you  how.  But  between  now  and  the  end  of  the  week, 
he's  going  to  write  me  a  letter,  begging  me  not  to  pay 
back  that  money — begging — do  you  understand  ?  Did 
I  ever  tell  you  I  was  surely  going  to  do  something,  and 
then  not  do  it?  There  must  be  some  way  to  make 
Reynolds  believe  we  can  control  Cameron's  stock.  I*m 
sure  to  find  out  what  that  way  is.  I'll  find  it  if  I  have 
to  sell  myself,  body  and  soul,  to  do  it !  " 

Suddenly,  John's  expression  changed.  The  glow 
ii6 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

of  enthusiastic  confidence  died  out  of  his  face.  He 
seemed  to  sink  into  the  deepest  reverie,  a  practice  utterly 
at  variance  with  his  usual  habits  during  office  hours. 
Arthur,  thoroughly  alarmed  at  the  situation  of  danger 
and  possible  disgrace  which  confronted  him,  together 
with  his  partner,  tried  vainly  to  read  his  thoughts. 
If  he  were  really  thinking  out  the  puzzle,  it  were  best 
not  to  disturb  him.  But  he  did  not  appear  to  be  think- 
ing at  all.  His  mind  seemed  to  be  miles  away,  feeding 
itself  on  fugitive  memories — unhappy  memories,  rather 
than  on  facts.  After  what  seemed  to  Arthur  a  long 
silence,  he  called  gently,  "  John,"  and,  receiving  no 
answer,  tapped  him  sharply  on  the  arm. 

John  Howard  came  back  with  a  start  to  the  world 
of  affairs  he  meant  to  dominate. 

"  I  was  giving  myself  a  vacation,  Arthur,"  he  ad- 
mitted, with  an  embarrassment  alien  to  his  everyday 
conduct.  '*  I  was  thinking  of  something  that  hap- 
pened to  me  years  ago,  before  you  knew  me. 
I  believe  Tm  glad  you  dragged  me  back.  But  before 
I  went  off  on  this  excursion,  I  thought  of  a  plan.  You 
needn't  worry  about  this  matter  of  the  Monumental 
any  longer.  We  can  straighten  it  out.  I  don't  in- 
tend using  the  idea  I  just  chanced  on,  unless  I  can 
think  of  no  other.  But  if  it  needs  be,  this  one  will  do 
the  work." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  tell  me  aboui  it?"  Arthur 
"7 


THE  CONQUEST 

asked,  completely  amazed  at  the  entire  course  of 
events. 

John's  apparent  uneasiness  and  embarrassment  be- 
came even  more  marked. 

"  No/'  he  replied  slowly,  "  Fm  not.  If  I  hit  on 
some  other  plan,  I'll  explain  it  to  you.  If  I  do  what's 
in  my  mind,  you'll  get  a  clear  enough  idea  without  my 
saying  anything  further.  I'll  rely  on  you,  Arthur,  to 
be  discreet,  more  discreet  than  you  ever  were  in  all 
your  life.  I  don't  want  you  to  whisper  a  word  of  this 
morning's  talk  to  anyone — not  even  to  Helen — not 
even  to  me.  Don't  ever  remind  me  of  it  again  by  any- 
thing you  say  or  do. 

"  I  know  all  this  sounds  absurdly  mysterious,  but 
you'll  understand  it  too  soon,  perhaps.  You'll  have  a 
chance  to  show  how  much  real  delicacy  you  have.  If 
you  make  good,  I'll  never  forget  it  to  my  dying  day." 

Arthur  was  sincerely  troubled.  Why  on  earth 
should  John  become  so  amazingly  emotional,  John,  the 
practical,  the  clear-sighted,  the  man  who  had  always 
seemed  to  abhor  sentimentality,  the  man  who  had  not 
even  once,  in  his  discussion  of  the  coming  disaster  to 
the  Cotton  Duck  Company,  thought  of,  much  less  men- 
tioned, the  himdreds  of  employees  who  might  find 
themselves  without  work. 

But  to  resist  an  appeal  to  his  friendship  was  not 
within  Arthur's  power. 

"All  right,  old  man,"  he  said,  without  any  per- 
Ii8 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

cq>tible  pause.  "  My  future  shall  be  patterned  after 
the  lowly  clam.  If  Reynold's  useful  life  ends  to-night 
as  suddenly  and  mysteriously  as  this  morning's  talk, 
ril  tell  Helen  I  always  knew  he  had  a  weak  heart." 

John's  smile  lacked  any  genuine  merriment.  "  Get 
along  with  you  then,'*  he  ordered.  "  I've  a  mess  of 
things  I  simply  must  clean  up  to-day.  And,  Arthur," 
he  called,  as  the  door  was  about  to  close,  "  don*t  tele- 
phone anything  to  Helen  about  my  coming  to  dinner. 
I'm  afraid  I'll  have  work  to  do  to-night — hard  work 
at  that." 


Ill 

That  same  night,  just  after  dinner,  John  Howard 
stood  at  the  mirror  in  his  room,  putting  the  last  touches 
to  his  immaculate  attire.  It  was  a  most  attractive 
figure  which  glanced  back  at  him  from  the  other  side 
of  the  glass — in  spite  of  the  troubled  look  in  his  eyes. 
But  John  wasn't  thinking  of  his  personal  charms, 
although,  subconsciously,  he  counted  them  as  potent 
factors  in  the  work  before  him.  The  plan  he  had 
chanced  upon  that  morning  was  the  only  way  out  of 
his  dilemma — utterly  distasteful  to  him  though  it  was. 

Even  now  he  had  been  revolving  his  problem  in 
his  mind,  to  make  certain  he  was  not  paying  an  un- 
necessary price  to  save  his  career  from  shipwreck ;  but 
he  could  find  no  flaw  in  his  logic.  If  Reynolds  could 
not  be  forced  to  withhold  the  bank's  demand,  the  Monu- 
mental Company  would  be  driven  into  bankruptcy.  The 
money  could  never  be  borrowed  elsewhere  than  from 
the  Twelfth  National.  An  investigation  of  the  Monu- 
mental's  affairs  would  ruin  him.  Oh,  he  would  still 
get  plenty  of  cases  to  try!  People  would  be  glad 
enough  to  buy  his  convincing  arguments  and  his  keen 
cross-examinations — no  matter  what  they  might  think 
of  his  recklessness  or  his  ethics  as  a  financier;  but  his 
dream  of  power  would  be  over.  No  cost  was  too 
great  if  it  would  save  him  from  being  forced  to  stand 

130 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

idly  by,  while  the  structure  he  had  reared  with  so 
much  skill,  self-denial  and  pain,  went  tottering  to  the 
ground.  Well,  then,  Reynolds  must  be  made  to  aban- 
don his  purpose.  He  must  be  frightened,  and  Cam- 
eron's name  was  the  weapon  to  be  used.  An  appeal 
to  Cameron  was  impossible — worse  than  impossible — 
because  it  would  surely  be  futile  and  would,  moreover, 
be  putting  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  wily,  unscrupu- 
lous and  powerful  man — his  own  client  to-day,  of 
course,  but  to-morrow,  perhaps,  his  mortal  enemy. 
Reynolds,  on  the  other  hand,  would  not  be  deluded  by 
a  mere  pretense  of  Cameron's  support.  There  must 
be  some  element  of  plausibility  too  strong  for  doubt. 
The  treaty  of  alliance  must  be  actually  and  formally 
proclaimed.  Therefore,  the  problem,  to  John's  trained 
mind,  rapidly  yielded  the  only  possible  result,  and  with 
a  wry  face  and  a  rebellious  soul,  he  proved  the  answer 
to  the  sum  to  be  the  correct  one. 

Suppose  he  were  in  a  position  to  say  to  Reynolds 
with  a  haughty  air :  "  Sir,  the  attitude  you  have  taken 
is  a  most  unfriendly  one.  It  clearly  shows  the  inability 
of  this  administration  to  recognize  the  best  interests 
of  the  bank.  I  mean  to  take  up  the  matter  to-day  with 
Mr.  Cameron.  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware  of  the  fact 
that  he's  my  prospective  father-in-law,  as  well  as  my 
client.  I  think  my  advice  will  have  some  weight  with 
him.  We  shall  take  steps  for  a  special  stockholders' 
meeting  and  a  complete  reversal  of  this  bank's  policies. 

121 


THE  CONQUEST 

Of  course,  the  Monumental  can  get  all  the  money  it 
needs  elsewhere,  but  I  don't  intend  that  my  holdings 
in  the  Twelfth  National,  or  his  much  larger  ones,  shall 
be  jeopardized."  Reynolds  would  cringe.  He  was 
that  sort  of  man.  John  would  never  have  to  talk  to 
Cameron  about  the  affairs  of  the  Monumental.  Rey- 
nolds would  serve  him  like  a  slave.  The  son-in-law  of 
the  largest  stockholder  might  demand  what  he  would, 
and  his  commands  would  be  abjectly  obeyed.  Along 
that  path  lay  safety.  In  a  hundred  other  ways  his  new 
relationship  might  be  made  a  powerful  wand  before 
which  gateways,  long  and  wearily  besieged,  would  fly 
open,  but  the  price  seemed  indeed  a  staggering  one  to 
John.  In  his  labored  journey,  he  had  already  paid 
heavily  enough  for  portage  over  some  of  the  difficult 
places. 

At  the  beginning,  when  it  seemed  almost  impos- 
sible to  enter  the  outer  courts  of  the  temple  of  finance, 
he  had  felt  compelled  to  join  forces  with  the  amiable, 
but  utterly  inefficient,  Chase,  so  that  through  his  rela- 
tives he  might  find  a  necessary  entering  wedge.  At  the 
time  that  necessity  had  seemed  bitter  and  intoler- 
able. Later  on,  John  had  learned  to  fraternize  with 
men  whom  he  secretly  despised;  he  had  championed 
causes  from  which  his  sympathies  revolted.  One  by 
one,  he  had  parted  with  his  individual  tastes,  prefer- 
ences and  personal  desires,  because  they  constituted 
too  heavy  a  burden  to  be  borne  by  a  man  who  intericied 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

to  travel  so  far  and  so  fast  as  he ;  but  sophisticated  as 
he  was  to  do,  and  do  cheerfully  and  promptly,  un- 
pleasant things  when  they  were  essential  to  his  plans, 
this  final  and  supreme  sacrifice  of  his  ideals  filled  him 
with  misgivings  and  dismay.  He  didn't  want  to  owe 
anything  to  a  woman's  aid,  to  begin  with.  In  spite  of 
all  his  planning  to  make  use  of  others,  he  had  a  certain 
virile  independence  which  shrank  from  utilizing  this 
type  of  help.  *'A  marriage  for  money,"  people  would 
term  it.  Of  course,  that  would  not  be  true.  He 
didn't  want,  and  had  no  idea  of  taking,  a  dollar  of 
Hilda  Cameron's  money.  He  had  never  before  even 
considered  making  use  of  a  wife  for  the  influential 
connections  she  might  have — although  there  had  been 
many  girls  who  would  readily  have  lent  themselves  to 
that  purpose.  He  could  manage  such  things  without 
selling  himself.  But  to-night,  his  choice  was  between 
Hilda  and  utter  ruin.  It  was  not  to  help  himself  on  his 
upward  climb,  but  to  save  himself  from  being  hurled 
over  the  precipice,  that  he  felt  forced  to  clutch  her 
hand.  It  would  be  easier  to  die  than  to  confess  the 
impossibility  of  his  ever  entering  upon  his  promised 
kingdom.  Even  though  he  must  give  up  the  best  of 
his  life  and  the  best  of  himself  to  mount  this  throne, 
it  would  be  better  to  rule  as  a  mutilated  cripple  than 
never  to  hold  the  longed-for  sceptre  of  power  in  his 
hand. 

It  was  not  perfectly  clear  to  John  himself  why  he 

123 


THE  CONQUEST 

hated  with  such  intensity  this  marriage  he  felt  unable 
to  avoid.  Hilda  Cameron  would  make  a  perfectly 
presentable  wife — not  pretty,  certainly — ^but  rather  dis- 
tinguished-looking. She  had  been  most  expensively 
educated,  and  if  she  knew  nothing  thorough  well,  she 
could,  at  least,  talk  intelligently,  and  sometimes  even 
wittily,  about  every  subject  under  the  sun.  She  was 
wilful,  of  course,  and  selfish — what  else  could  you  ex- 
pect of  the  only  daughter  of  Daniel  Cameron?  But  she 
wouldn't  interfere  with  any  of  his  plans ;  she  wouldn't 
demand  any  silly  display  of  sentiment,  and  she  could 
play  her  part  in  the  world  he  meant  to  dominate  with 
grace,  and  even  with  some  charm.  She  wouldn't  re- 
fuse to  marry  him  either.  He  never  had  a  doubt  on 
that  score.  All  women  liked  him.  He  could  get  her 
if  he  made  up  his  mind,  and  now  there  was  nothing 
else  to  be  done. 

Why  then  was  it  so  obnoxious  to  him  to  wed  with 
this  highly  eligible,  and  by  no  means  undesirable,  girl  ? 
He  tried  to  discover  the  causes  of  his  own  reluctance, 
but  six  years  of  neglect  had  blunted  somewhat  his 
powers  of  self-analysis.  He  realized  clearly,  however, 
that  it  was  not  really  Hilda  he  objected  to.  He  did  not 
want  to  be  married  at  all.  At  thirty  he  had  come  to 
resent  the  idea  of  sharing  the  intimacies  of  his  life  with 
anyone.  But  the  most  potent  cause  of  his  revolt  was 
his  unwillingness  to  defile  his  memories  of  what  he  had 
come  to  believe  the  one  great  passion  of  his  life.    Like 

"4 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

many  another  man  whose  actions  have  been  ruthlessly 
purged  of  sentimentality,  John  had  abandoned  himself 
utterly  to  this  one  secret  emotional  phase  of  thought 
and  feeling. 

He  had  loved  Margaret,  he  repeated  over  and  over 
to  himself.  No  man  had  ever  loved  any  woman  more 
tenderly.  And  he  had  given  her  up.  He  had  sacrificed 
her  to  the  demands  of  his  insatiable  career.  At  thirty, 
he  was  able  to  recognize  fully  that  in  so  sacrificing 
her,  he  had  been  actuated  by  a  boyish  impulse,  and 
that  in  his  manner  of  acting,  he  had  behaved  with  a 
deadly  seriousness  almost  grotesque.  But  he  also  knew 
that  his  boyish  instinct  had  advised  him  truly.  Mar- 
garet would,  undoubtedly,  have  hampered  him  in  his 
work.  Whatever  he  might  pretend  to  himself,  he  was 
not  truly  sorry  they  had  parted.  Every  time  he  had 
visited  his  partner  and  Arthur's  somewhat  unmanage- 
able Helen,  he  had  thanked  his  particular  guardian 
angel  for  letting  him  live  through  the  first  stormy 
years  of  practice  without  the  handicap  of  soft,  cling- 
ing arms.  Margaret,  as  a  lost  love,  was  a  more  in- 
spiring thought  to  him  than  as  a  burdensome  wife. 
He  had  never  thought  of  seeking  her  out  and  endeavor- 
ing to  renew  their  friendship.  He  knew  vaguely  that 
she  had  gone  of¥  to  some  college  in  the  North.  He 
hoped  fervently  he  would  never  again  meet  her.  The 
actual  Margaret  could  add  nothing,  and  might  take 
away  much,  from  the  Margaret  he  loved  to  remember. 

us 


THE  CONQUEST 

With  this  adoration  of  a  beautiful  ideal,  once  re- 
vealed to  him,  always  to  be  longed  for,  but  never  again 
to  be  regained,  he  satisfied  the  cravings  of  an  emotional 
nature  that  must  otherwise  have  been  starved.  This 
worship  was  peculiarly  adapted  to  John's  limitations. 
Its  ritual  demanded  no  sacrifices  whatsoever.  It  caused 
no  disturbance  of  his  plans  or  habits.  It  gave  a  certain 
softness  and  beauty  to  his  life,  yet  could  be  banished 
whenever  inconvenient,  until  some  more  opportune 
season  of  leisure  and  solitude. 

Now  he  must  become  an  apostate  to  this  vision  of 
the  past — must  substitute  for  his  dream-princess  a 
woman  of  flesh  and  blood,  in  no  way  the  equal  of  the 
girl  he  had  lost.  He  was  to  be  false  to  the  new  love  as 
well  as  to  the  old — profaning  his  memories,  and  enter- 
ing upon  his  marriage  with  the  ever-present  image  of 
another  woman  enshrined  in  his  thoughts. 

As  he  turned  away  from  the  mirror,  he  was  filled 
with  an  unreasoning  hatred  of  all  mankind,  and  above 
all  others,  hatred  of  himself  and  of  Reynolds.  It  was 
not  like  John  to  hate  the  men  whom  he  felt  forced  to 
hurl  out  of  his  path.  In  a  condescending  fashion,  he 
was  usually  sorry  for  them — ^^driven  blindly,  as  they 
were,  to  do  battle  with  their  superior.  But  for  Rey- 
nolds, who  was  only  striving,  with  a  pitiful  malignity, 
to  cling  to  his  tiny  point  of  vantage,  he  could  feel  no 
mercy.  The  man  had  forced  him  to  strip  from  him- 
self the  last  rag  of  his  idealism.    He  saw  himself  naked, 

126 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

gaunt  and  horrible.  How  could  he  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  forgive  the  creature  who  had  brought  him  to  this 
pass  ?  He  would  make  Reynolds  pay  to  the  last  bitter 
penny  for  the  suffering  he  had  known  all  through  this 
miserable  day,  and  the  humiliation  which  was  still  to 
be  endured  to-night.  He  would  requite  fully  the  pang 
he  had  felt,  when  on  his  way  home  he  had  stopped  in 
the  florist's  shop  to  buy  for  Hilda  the  flowers  he  had 
not  been  permitted  to  give  to  Margaret  six  years  be- 
fore. He  would  punish  Reynolds  for  the  paradox  of 
Life's  ironical  parallel,  which  for  a  second  time  was 
now  forcing  him  to  a  cruel  and  supreme  issue  on  the 
night  of  a  great  legal  victory. 

He  would  reap  dire  vengeance,  he  told  himself, 
as  he  took  the  great  box  of  flowers  in  his  arm  and 
strode  towards  the  door,  because  with  all  this  misery 
in  his  soul,  he  must  seem  gay,  blithe,  ardent,  tender 
and,  at  last,  triumphant.  He  must  struggle  and  plead 
for  the  love  he  did  not  desire  and  could  not  return. 
And  not  only  to-night  must  he  play  this  farcical  role 
but  every  night — always.  That  this  should  be  in- 
flicted on  him — that  he,  the  hero,  should  be  driven  to 
play  the  conscienceless  mountebank — was  intolerable. 
John  could  not  have  borne  to  think  of  it,  had  he  not 
tempered  his  self-pity  with  stern  thoughts  of  the  havoc 
he  meant  to  hurl  upon  the  man  who  had  thus  twisted 
awry  the  orderly  fabric  of  his  life. 

127 


IV 

After  John  had  been  ushered  into  the  Cameron 
drawing-room,  he  was  left  to  wait  many  minutes  be- 
fore Hilda  made  her  appearance.  It  was  a  good 
omen,  he  told  himself.  She  was  making  herself  at- 
tractive to  receive  him.  That  was  well.  But  to-night, 
unfortunately,  he  found  himself  a  disquieting  and  im- 
patient companion.  He  crossed  the  luxuriously  ap- 
pointed room  to  the  open  window,  and  looked  listlessly 
and  discontentedly  at  the  trim  but  stately  beauty  of 
Mt.  Vernon  Place,  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the  tall  white 
shaft  of  the  Washington  Monument.  Through  the 
open  window,  all  the  perfume  of  the  early  spring 
foliage  drifted  to  him.  Men  and  maids,  arm  in  arm, 
hurried  past,  each  pair  happily  conscious  of  the  frag- 
rance and  intoxication  of  the  night  and  that  they, 
themselves,  were  young,  and  were  together.  It  was, 
in  truth,  the  season  of  mating,  for  birds  and  men,  and 
to  John,  too,  at  last,  the  call  of  spring  had  come — ^but 
it  had  come  hideously  disguised,  debased,  deformed. 
He  was  to  know  marriage,  but  never  to  experience  the 
meaning  of  wedded  love. 

If  he  were  only  like  other  men,  he  told  himself, 
content  with  simple  things,  able  to  accept  the  quiet, 
orderly  round  of  peaceful  labor  and  domestic  tran- 
quillity.    At  that  instant,  he  wished  passionately  he 

128 


THE, HEAT. OF  BATTLE 

had  been  so  created.  But  he  knew  he  had  not  been, 
and  he  knew,  also,  that  in  his  normal  moments,  he  did 
not  wish  to  be.  He,  who  aspired  to  be  the  master, 
was  above  all  men  the  slave  of  his  own  plans  and 
purposes,  and  another  link  in  the  chain  which  bound 
him  he  must  now  forge  with  his  own  hands. 

A  light  step  was  heard  outside  the  door,  and  John 
hastily  assumed  command  of  himself.  The  spoilt  dar- 
lings of  wealth  and  luxury  were  not  to  be  wooed  in 
sombre  fashion.  With  a  vigorous  effort,  he  brushed 
away  all  ideas  which  might  clash  with  the  task  before 
him.  As  he  came  forward  to  greet  Hilda,  his  attitude 
of  mind  was  precisely  as  though  he  were  rising  in  the 
court-room  to  plead  a  difficult  and  unpopular  cause. 
He  was  preparing  to  be  pleasing,  ingratiating  and  con- 
vincing; to  overcome  whatever  objections  of  thought 
or  feeling  might  be  arrayed  against  him.  And  he  was 
in  a  larger  sense  doing  it  for  precisely  the  same  reason. 
A  mysterious,  never  -  to  -  be  -  understood  impulse  — 
stronger  than  himself — Destiny — Fate — God — what- 
ever you  might  choose  to  call  it — had  retained  him 
from  the  first  to  strive  throughout  his  life  to  win, 
whether  it  were  right  or  wrong,  a  definite  battle.  He 
was  being  true — even  in  his  dishonor,  to  his  own  Great 
Client. 

He  hastened  swiftly  from  the  window  to  take  Hil- 
da's hand,  but  she  courtesied  mockingly,  instead  of 
extending  it. 

119 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  Hail  to  the  Conqueror,"  she  proclaimed  with  a 
provoking  laugh.  "  I  kneel  in  spirit  before  the  victor 
of  the  great  Battle  of  Annapolis.  I'd  do-  it  actually, 
but  it  would  muss  my  gown.  It's  rather  a  pretty 
gown — don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  looked  at  it,"  he  informed  her. 
"  My  glances  were  occupied  with  the  girl  inside.  Aren't 
you  going  to  shake  hands  with  me  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  to  suggest  anything  so  presumptuous,*' 
she  retorted.  "At  the  most,  I  thought  I  might  be 
allowed  to  kiss  your  hand.  That's  the  custom  among 
emperors,  I  believe;  but,  first,  I  meant  to  make  sure 
you  had  actually  come  to  see  me — not  father." 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  certain  lack  of  originality 
in  this  house,"  John  remarked,  as  they  seated  them- 
selves. "  Your  butler  asked  the  same  question.  I 
came  to  see  your  father's  daughter." 

"  Well,  now,  you  see  her,  all  dressed  in  her  best 
bib  and  tucker,  to  receive  the  pretty  gentleman  who 
can  only  call  on  languishing  ladies  when  he's  not  too 
busy  winning  great  cases  for  their  more  important 
fathers.  Do  you  know  I'm  glad  you  came  and  I'm 
sorry  to  see  you?  " 

"  The  priestess  of  the  oracle  was  a  woman,  too," 
was  John's  comment.  "  Her  riddles  were  like  yours, 
but  if  my  memory  serves  me,  she  was  usually  old  and 
rather  ugly.    You'd  better  explain." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  told  him,  "  I'm  glad  you  called 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

on  me,  because  it  has  tripled  my  importance  in  this 
household.  When  your  card  was  brought  upstairs, 
Dad  was  sure  you  wanted  to  talk  to  him.  What  could 
a  brilliant  young  lawyer,  who  had  just  changed  the 
law  of  Maryland,  have  to  say  to  a  poor  female  earth- 
worm? Fm  sorry  to  see  you,  because  Fve  come  to 
hate  the  sound  of  your  name !  I've  heard  how  remark- 
able you  are  till  I  want  to  stand  on  a  table  and  shriek ! 
Father  fed  me  all  through  dinner  with  eulogies  of  you. 
No  man  should  be  talked  of  in  such  fashion  while  he  is 
still  alive.  How  self-possessed  you  are !  How  logical ! 
How  well  you  know  the  law!  How  remarkable  it  is 
that  a  man  of  your  age  should  be  so  utterly  without 
flaw!  Bah!  If  you'd  only  run  off  with  a  policeman's 
wife,  I  could  forgive  you  everything." 

"Policemen's  wives  are  so  plain!"  he  objected. 
"  There  is  no  hope  of  your  marrying  a  policeman,  I 
suppose?  You  must  grant  me  easier  terms.  Look, 
I've  brought  some  flowers  to  plead  for  my  forgive- 
ness." 

Everybody  brought  flowers  to  Miss  Cameron.  She 
found  it  annoying  to  pretend  raptures  of  delight  over 
each  successive  offering.  But  as  she  lifted  these  from 
the  box,  even  she  was  awakened  to  a  start  of  surprise. 
For  John,  thoroughly  alive  to  each  possibility  in  the 
preparation  of  his  case,  had  given  unusual  thought  and 
displayed  a  complete  disregard  for  expense  in  their 
selection.    They  were  not  pink  roses.    Even  had  such 

131 


THE  CONQUEST 

commonplace  flowers  been  suited  to  his  purpose,  it 
would  have  hurt  him  too  much  to  offer  to  Hilda  the 
nosegay  which  belonged  to  the  lost  Margaret.  They 
were  a  huge  cluster  of  orchids  of  wonderful  and 
nameless  tints,  shading  from  one  delicate  color  into 
another.  Rare  at  any  time,  they  seemed  all  the  more 
exotic  at  this  season  of  the  lilac  and  the  daffodil.  The 
girl  turned  from  their  beauty  to  look  at  her  impor- 
tant young  visitor  and  to  wonder  why  he  had  chosen 
to  bring  this  almost  unique  gift  to  her. 

"  I  never  saw  such  superb  orchids,''  she  murmured. 
"  Tell  me  why  you  felt  like  bringing  me  anything  so 
lovely." 

That  might  have  been  the  opportunity  for  a  less 
adroit  man,  but  John  had  seen  in  many  hard- fought 
legal  battles  the  folly  of  too  much  haste,  and  he  only 
said: 

"  Tve  been  thinking  about  you  most  of  the  day. 
These  flowers  seem  somehow  to  symbolize  you." 

Hilda  was  frankly  pleased.  Of  course,  she  as- 
sumed the  money  value  of  gifts  meant  nothing  to  John. 
He  must  earn  fabulous  sums.  Her  fattier  had  in- 
formed her  of  the  fee  he  anticipated  being  called  upon 
to  pay  to  Howard  &  Chase,  and  rich  as  she  was,  it 
startled  her.  But  to  be  told  that  she  had  been  thought 
of  during  most  of  a  busy  day  by  a  man  not  only  brilliant 
enough  to  move  to  enthusiasm  her  mercilessly  critical 
father,  but  young,  interesting  and  handsome  in  the 

132 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

bargain,  was  a  thought  which  might  rouse  a  glimmer 
of  excitement  in  the  most  indifferent  young  woman; 
and  Hilda  was  not  indifferent.  She  was  morbidly 
fond  of  admiration,  and  at  the  same  time,  keenly 
chagrined  at  perceiving  how  much  of  what  admiration 
she  did  receive  was  paid  to  Daniel  Cameron's  daughter, 
rather  than  to  Hilda  Cameron. 

"  rd  like  to  believe  they  symbolize  me,"  she  re- 
flected thoughtfully.  "Why  do  you  think  so?  I'm 
not  pretty.  These  flowers  are  beautiful.  I'm  afraid 
our  only  similarity  is  that  we're  both  expensive." 

John  smiled  quietly.  The  commonly  accepted 
adage,  which  informs  us  one  may  always  be  safe  in 
telling  any  woman  of  her  beauty,  had  never  deceived 
him.    He  did  not  intend  to  be  trite. 

"  The  orchids  are  not  beautiful  in  the  ordinary 
sense  of  the  word,"  he  startled  her  by  saying.  "  They 
surely  have  no  conventional  beauty  in  their  design. 
But  there's  something  rare  about  them.  There's  a 
wealth  of  charm  in  their  subtle  shading,  to  people  who 
have  taste  enough  to  understand.  They  are  hardly  like 
flowers  at  all.  They  have  their  own  character.  That's 
why  they  seem  to  me  to  be  like  you." 

Of  course,  this  was  flattery;  she  was  twenty-five 
and  knew  how  much  of  conversation  ought  to  be  dis- 
counted. But  it  was  flattery  of  a  variety  somewhat  at 
variance  from  the  staple  brand  to  which  she  had  grown 
accustomed. 

133 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  You  know  how  to  say  pretty  things  to  a  woman/* 
she  conceded.  ''  Yet  you  don*t  weary  any  of  us  with 
too  much  of  your  valuable  presence.  Confess  now 
how  immeasurably  superior  you  feel  to  all  of  us  dainty 
dolls !  Wasn't  it  because  you  seemed  to  need  relaxation 
after  your  great  case  that  you  hunted  me  up  to-night?  " 

Her  question  was  a  bitter  jest  to  John. 

"  I  never  was  less  frivolous  in  all  my  life  than 
when  I  made  up  my  mind  to  spend  this  evening  with 
you,"  he  protested.  "  You  must  remember,"  he  went 
on,  deciding  the  minute  had  arrived  for  pressing  his 
attack  somewhat  more  definitely,  "  how  different  my 
life  has  been  from  yours  or  from  that  of  any  of  the 
other  men  you  know.  I'm  only  thirty  now.  At  twenty- 
four,  I  hadn't  a  dollar  nor  a  friend  who  could  give 
me  a  dollar's  worth  of  business.  I've  had  to  spend 
almost  every  minute,  night  and  day,  in  doing  my  work. 
There's  been  many  a  night  when  I  have  been  aching  to 
enjoy  myself, — ^to  be  talking  with  you,  for  example, — 
when  I  simply  forced  myself  to  remain  chained  to  my 
desk,  not  because  I  wanted  to  make  money,  but  be- 
cause I  know,  whether  you'll  admit  it  or  not,  that  no 
woman  worth  her  salt  has  any  use  for  men  who  are 
failures,  any  more  than  men  have.  And  I  never  in- 
tended to  be  a  failure.  That's  why  I  seem  to  have 
taken  myself  so  seriously.  It  was  because  T  never 
had  time  to  be  young.  I  had  to  wait  for  the  pleasant 
part  of  life  until  I  had  earned  the  right  to  it. 

134 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

''  You'll  notice,  though,"  he  added,  significantly, 

'  that  to-night,  the  first  night  in  my  life  when  I  had 

the  right  to  be  sure  my  success  wasn't  a  mere  passing 

thing,  I  came  straight  to  you.     Does  that  look  as 

though  I  thought  you  were  a  doll  ?  " 

Hilda  listened  with  grave  approval.  He,  the  great 
man,  had  stooped  to  explain — to  confide  in  her.  She 
even  brought  herself  to  the  point  of  a  most  unusual 
humility. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I've  ever  been  '  snippy '  to  you," 
she  said.  '*  Really,  I  think  you're  nice."  She  looked 
at  him  furtively,  ready  to  blaze  into  anger  if  he  seemed 
amused  at  the  condescension  of  so  inferior  a  being. 
But  he  made  no  such  blunder.  It  seemed  as  though 
her  approval  were  really  precious  to  him. 

'*  I'm  glad,"  he  announced  earnestly.  "  I,  for  my 
part,  think  even  better  of  you." 

He  smiled  enigmatically,  and  she  fell  into  his  snare, 
just  as  he  had  made  sure  she  would. 

"  Tell  me  what  you  think  about  me,"  she  said,  half 
commanding,  half  entreating. 

Here  was  the  chance  for  another  grave  blunder, 
but  John  was  now  fully  alert,  so  intent  on  his  own 
skilful  twists  and  turns  of  speech  that  he  forgot  all  his 
repugnance  for  what  he  was  doing,  in  the  pure  in- 
tellectual joy  of  accomplishing  a  task  no  one  could 
have  done  with  more  adroitness, 

I3S 


THE  CONQUEST 

"Are  you  sure  you  want  me  to  tell  you  the  truth  ?  " 
he  demanded,  artfully  heightening  the  dramatic  in- 
terest of  his  coming  recital.  "I  am  no  dealer  in 
empty  compliments." 

"  Fm  sure,"  she  insisted,  eagerly,  "  I  shall  despise 
you  if  you  tell  me  anything  disagreeable,  but  I'll  hate 
you  even  more  if  you  tell  me  nothing." 

He  made  a  grimace  of  mock  dismay.  "  Whatever 
I  do  then,  hate  is  to  be  my  reward.  My  safest  course 
is  silence.  Brave  men  were  rewarded  after  another 
fashion  by  ladies  in  olden  times." 

"  But  I'm  not  old,"  she  retorted.  "  I'm  young  and 
irresponsible,  and  simply  must  have  my  own  way 
always.  I  think  I  inherit  the  failing  from  father. 
So  you'll  have  to  answer  me  sooner  or  later.  Come, 
don't  be  horrid;  tell  me  what  you  think  of  me." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  searching  intentness,  and 
said  slowly  and  without  a  trace  of  banter  in  his  voice : 

"If  you  will  have  it  then — I  think  you're  a  girl  of 
wonderful  possibilities,  slowly  killing  every  one  of 
them  in  an  unfortunate  environment."  She  darted  an 
amazed  glance  at  the  solemn  man.  This  was  any- 
thing but  the  kind  of  talk  she  had  anticipated.  With- 
out seeming  to  notice  her  wide-eyed  interest,  though 
he  missed  not  one  trace  of  it,  he  continued  his  analysis 
of  the  girl's  character. 

"  You  have  dormant  in  you  your  father's  wonder- 
ful strength  and  quickness  of  mind,  and  you  have  the 

136 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

germ  of  a  fine  feminine  sympathy  and  tenderness  be- 
sides ;  but  you're  afraid  to  let  these  things  grow.  You 
hide  the  charm  under  the  light  cleverness  your  class 
affects  to  think  smart,  and  your  strength  is  frittered 
away  in  doing  things  anyone  could  do.  You  have  no 
need  to  exert  yourself,  because  everyone  pays  you  hom- 
age anyhow — homage  your  father,  not  you,  really 
earned.  You  need  to  be  placed  among  people  to  whom 
money  means  nothing;  people  who  will  judge  you  on 
your  own  merits.  The  flattery  of  the  stupid  creatures 
about  you  has  been  too  easy  to  get.  All  true  apprecia- 
tion has  been  cheapened  for  you.  You've  come  to  be 
suspicious  of  all  men,  because  those  who  hover  about 
you  are  worthless.  You've  become  skeptical  even  of 
your  own  powers. 

"  You  need  a  new  atmosphere.  Your  father  might 
give  it  to  you,  if  he  were  willing  to  take  the  trouble, 
but  he  treats  you  like  a  baby  instead.  If  you  develop 
what's  really  in  you,  you  could  become  the  most  inter- 
esting and  the  most  interested  woman  I  ever  knew.  If 
you  stand  still,  in  five  years  you'll  be  an  exact  duplicate 
of  every  other  rich  woman  in  the  city." 

He  paused  to  take  note  of  the  result  of  his  words. 
He  had  made  her  think;  that  was  clear.  He  knew 
she  was  not  vexed,  whether  she  might  pretend  to  be  or 
not,  so  he  put  a  note  of  anxiety  into  his  resonant  voice, 
as  he  asked: 

137 


THE  CONQUEST 

"Are  you  angry  with  me  because,  in  my  crude 
way,  I'm  trying  to  save  you  from  wasting  yourself  ? 
Didn't  you  want  the  truth  ?  " 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  bit  angry,"  she  answered  brightly, 
though  with  a  pleasant  seriousness.  "  Really,  I'm  not 
so  worth  while  as  you  suppose,  though  I  like  you  to 
think  me  so.  But  in  spite  of  your  protests,  you  are 
certainly  the  most  subtle  flatterer  I  ever  met.  You 
emphasize  insistently  one  fact  which  could  not  fail  to 
please  any  girl :  The  mind  which  worked  out  the  prob- 
lems in  this  Tax  Case  and  a  dozen  other  twisted  cases 
has  bent  itself  to  study  and  analyze  me.  You  must  have 
thought  about  me  a  lot.  Any  girl  would  like  to  be- 
lieve that.  We  hate  to  be  understood,  but  we  love  to 
have  you  try." 

He  was  ready  now  to  test  the  strength  of  the  im- 
pression he  had  so  delicately  striven  to  create,  and  he 
announced,  with  quiet  emphasis,  "  I've  spent  much 
more  time  and  thought  on  you  than  I  have  on  the  ease- 
ment appeal  or  any  other  case."  His  voice  was  low 
and  vibrant.  Without  being  sure  just  what  he  meant, 
she  was  agitated,  confused.  She  didn't  even-  demand 
to  know  why  he  had  cared  to  use  his  time  and  thought 
in  this  way.  But  her  eyes  asked  and  they  were 
promptly  answered. 

"  It  was  because,"  he  went  on,  "  you  were  more 
important  to  me  than  anything  else.  I  have  to  learn 
to  understand  you  and  to  make  you  understand  your- 

138 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

self.  Because  you're  going  to  marry  me,  Hilda 
Cameron." 

He  reached  forward  and  grasped  her  hand.  He 
was  carried  completely  away  by  his  own  persuasive- 
ness and  charm.  For  one  instant,  he  had  forgotten 
everything  else  but  the  convincing  climax  of  the  drama 
of  which  he  was  the  actor  and  the  author.  A  moment 
before,  he  had  been  keenly  appreciative  of  his  own 
splendid  technique — just  the  proper  period  of  intro- 
duction, the  gradual  awakening  of  interest,  the  denoue- 
ment, with  its  vivid,  but  not  too  abrupt,  element  of 
surprise.  But  now  his  cause  had  completely  swept  him 
along  with  it.  For  an  instant  he  really  was  the  breath- 
less lover  and  this  girl  the  all-desired  woman; — so 
perfect  and  facile  an  advocate  was  this  John  Howard ! 
He  clasped  her  hand  eagerly,  in  the  surge  of 
dramatic  realization  of  the  possibilities  of  his  part  in 
the  love  scene.  Hilda  searched  his  face  wistfully,  but 
could  find  nothing  there  but  what  she  might  have 
hoped  to  see.  There  was  nothing  else  for  her  to  dis- 
cover. The  orator  had  become  one  with  the  cause  he 
was  pleading. 

But  Hilda,  persecuted  from  early  childhood  by 
fortune  hunters,  was  not  wholly  without  her  doubts, 
and  they  found  quick  and  earnest  speech. 

"  What  can  you  want  with  me?  "  she  demanded  ex- 
citedly. "  They  say  you're  something  of  a  genius. 
I'm  painfully  commonplace.    I'm  not  pretty  nor  bril- 

139 


THE  CONQUEST 

liant,  nor  even  particularly  kind.     My  only  merit  is 
my  father." 

He  was  ready  for  that  objection  and  subconsciously 
thankful  that  his  protestations  were  not  without  a 
larger  measure  of  truth  than  some  other  suitor's  might 
have  been. 

"  Listen,  Hilda,"  he  urged,  ''  don't  you  see  how 
you  prove  all  I  said  about  you?  Your  petty  com- 
panions have  made  you  see  all  men  as  worthless  for- 
tune hunters.  You're  in  danger  of  believing  there 
isn't  anyone  big  enough  to  peer  over  the  money  bags 
piled  in  front  of  you.  I  don't  want  a  pretty  puppet 
for  a  wife.  I  don't  want  a  genius.  I  want  you.  And 
you  need  me!  You  need  a  man  who  has  a  different 
idea  of  human  values  than  those  you  find  here.  As  for 
the  money,  we'll  settle  that  once  and  for  all.  I  don't 
accept  alms  from  any  man,  not  even  from  the  father 
of  my  wife.  I  don't  want  one  dollar  of  your  father's 
money — now  or  ever;  and  you  shan't  have  one  either. 
If  you  ever  find  me  taking  a  penny  of  his,  except  what 
I  earn  just  as  I  would  if  he  never  had  a  daughter,  or 
letting  you  take  a  penny,  that  day  you  may  have  your 
divorce." 

His  never- failing  assurance,  his  calm  assumption 
of  an  ability  to  control  her  absolutely,  swept  her  along 
with  the  tide  of  his  dominance.  Her  objections  grew 
more  timid.  She  seemed  almost  to  want  them  to  be 
beaten  down. 

140 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

"  You  don't  really  know  me  very  well.  You 
haven't  seen  me  enough  to  know  what  I  am." 

"  I  know  you  well  enough/'  he  insisted.  ''  Doesn't 
it  honestly  seem  to  you,  yourself,  as  though  I  know  you 
better  than  anyone  else  you  ever  met  ?  I  don't  have  to 
see  people  every  day  for  years  in  order  to  understand 
them.  I  can  find  out  promptly  what  I  want — and  I 
want  you,"  he  repeated. 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  asked,  uncertainly.  She 
smiled  doubtfully.  "  I  am  a  real  vixen  sometimes. 
Don't  I  need  a  man  who  has  more  patience  than  you? 
I  think  sometimes  you're  too  much  like  me.  I  always 
have  to  have  my  own  way !  " 

"And  that's  just  what  you  shan't  have,"  was  his 
prompt  rejoinder,  but  he  laughed  happily  as  he  flung 
down  his  defiance.  "  You  want  to  live  a  real  life.  You 
don't  want  a  lackey  for  a  husband.  You've  had  too 
many  lackeys  around  you  already.  You  shall  have 
your  own  way  whenever  I  think  it  will  injure  neither 
you  nor  me.  I'll  think  that  often,  Hilda, — as  often  as 
I  can.  You  shall  have  everything  of  life  I  can  give 
you — and  I  can  give  you  things  you  have  hardly 
dreamed  of." 

He  meant  this,  too,  from  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 
He  would  be  very  kind  to  her.  She  would  be  to  him 
another,  but  a  dearer  and  more  feminine,  Arthur  Chase. 
He  would  be  considerate,  affectionate  and  thoughtful. 
She,  like  Arthur,  would  be  a  burden,  but  he  would 

141 


THE  CONQUEST 

never  let  her  know.  She,  like  Arthur,  would  have 
served  his  turn  in  an  hour  of  need  and  would,  by  way 
of  reward,  receive  a  lifetime  of  ease  and  shelter.  He 
seized  both  her  hands  and  drew  her  toward  him. 

"  Come,"  he  commanded,  "  tell  me  you're  glad ! 
Tell  me  I  don't  have  to  urge  you  any  more." 

She  did  not  draw  herself  away  from  him,  but  neither 
did  she  yield  herself  to  his  embrace.  She  looked  up 
into  his  face,  without  a  vestige  of  the  former  gaiety 
and  lightness  of  mood  she  habitually  wore.  She  was 
solemn,  almost  awed. 

"  John,"  she  said  very  softly,  "  I  couldn't  tell  you 
I  wasn't  fond  of  you.  I  have  always  wanted  you  to 
love  me.  It  made  me  miserable  because  you  never 
seemed  to  notice  me.  I  always  thought  you  splendid, 
though  I  tried  to  force  myself  to  be  as  indifferent  as 
you  seemed.  But  for  all  that,  I  wouldn't  marry  a  man 
who  didn't  love  me — no  matter  how  much  I  cared  for 
him.  It  would  be  degrading.  So  I  want  to  know,  are 
you  sure — oh,  terribly  sure — you  love  me  ?  " 

John's  superb  and  stately  drama,  real  enough  dur- 
ing many  minutes  to  have  enthralled  the  playwright 
himself,  suddenly  became  a  thing  of  rags  and  tatters. 
He  found  himself  standing  penitent  and  utterly  miser- 
able, a  cowardly  dastard,  with  an  innocent  and  betrayed 
girl  in  his  arms.  He  had  meant  to  be  kind  to  her.  He 
had  never  intended  to  use  her  wealth.  He  had  genu- 
inely believed  he  could  make  her  happy.    His  sympathy 

142 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

up  to  that  time  had  been  altogether  with  himself,  thus 
forced  into  a  marriage  he  had  never  desired,  but  in  this 
instant,  all  these  feelings  were  lost  in  a  great  and  im- 
potent compassion  for  this  Hilda,  who  because  of  his 
wrong,  would  never  receive  the  one  great  gift  she  de- 
manded of  life.  She  wanted  love,  the  one  thing  he  didn't 
have  to  give.  For  an  instant  his  heart  misgave  him.  If 
he  could  only  tell  her  the  truth — appeal  to  her  warm, 
generous  nature,  explain  how  vital  she  was  to  his 
plans,  and  plead  with  her  to  take  his  hand,  as  a  man 
might  grasp  that  of  a  comrade  going  forth  to  fight  a 
man's  fight!  H  he  could  only  play  fair  with  this  girl, 
who  was  about  to  trust  him  so  completely !  If  he  could 
only  save  himself  without  betraying  her!  But  it  could 
not  be.  The  daughter  of  Daniel  Cameron  would  never 
be  moved  by  a  suppliant.  After  all  he  had  already  said, 
anything  less  than  the  full  price  she  demanded  would 
cause  her  to  loathe  him,  to  shrink  from  him  in  a  flame 
of  humiliation  and  bitterness.  For  her  sake,  as  well 
as  his  own,  he  had  no  choice  but  to  complete  the  evil 
work  he  had  begun.  Perhaps  she  would  never  learn 
the  counterfeit  quality  of  his  love.  He  would  spend 
the  balance  of  his  life  living  out  faithfully  the  lies  he 
must  repeat. 

With  no  perceptible  pause  then,  he  took  up  his 
burden.  Her  question  demanded  caresses  rather  than 
words  by  way  of  reply,  and  he  was  not  unequal  to  the 
situation.  He  knew  with  such  precision  the  appropriate 

143 


THE  CONQUEST 

thing  to  do  and  say!  But  he  realized  that  his  speech 
was  more  convincing  than  his  kisses,  and  lest  she  might 
find  a  trace  of  coldness  in  them,  he  made  haste  to  say : 

"  Hilda,  dear,  I've  had  an  odd  life.  It's  been  one 
long  up-hill  climb.  I  told  you  I  was  cheated  out  of 
my  youth.  In  many  ways  I  am  an  old  man.  I'm  afraid 
you'll  think  I  am  not  a  very  demonstrative  lover.  I 
wish  I  could  bring  to  you  all  the  boyish  happiness  you 
deserve.  But  just  because  I've  been  starved  so  long,  I 
want  you  so  tremendously  now,  and  I  do  want  you! 
Words  have  been  my  trade,  yet  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  need  you ! " 

Her  face  lighted  up  at  his  skilful  phrases.  He 
had  caught  her  imagination.  She  was  necessary  to 
him!  Frivolous  as  she  was,  brilliant  and  courted  as 
he  was,  still  there  was  something  she  could  give  him. 
He  would  attain  the  color,  the  joy,  the  lightness  of  life 
through  her.  She  forgot  she  was  the  queen  of  her 
petty  little  circle.  She  forgot  she  was  the  daughter 
of  Daniel  Cameron.  She  only  remembered  that  she 
was  loved  by  a  wonderful  man,  and  somehow,  strange 
as  it  was,  he  needed  her  to  round  out  his  life,  to  bring 
him  a  happiness  he  could  nevef  achieve  alone. 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  murmured,  "  glad  there  is  some 
one  thing  I  can  do  for  you !  If  your  life  had  been  like 
anyone  else's — like  mine — you  wouldn't  want  me  at 
all.  I'm  not  much  good,  really,  but  I'll  try — oh,  very, 
very  hard — ^to  fill  your  need." 

144 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

John  was  awe-stricken.  It  seemed  somehow,  even 
though  one  knew  better — knew  that  women  as  well 
as  men  were  merely  pawns  in  a  great  game,  that  a 
young  girl's  affections  had  a  semblance  of  sacredness, 
yes,  even  to  him!  who  did  not  believe  much  in  holy 
things.  In  the  next  hour,  he  strove  with  much  energy 
and  concentration  to  be  thoroughly  charming.  He 
intended  to  make  Hilda  completely  happy, — far  hap- 
pier than  if  she  had  married  some  dull  creature,  who 
had  really  loved  her,  but  who  lacked  his  own  brain 
and  insight.  That  was  the  compromise  he  proposed  to 
his  scruples.  And  he  was  succeeding  extremely  well. 
Hilda  seemed  to  throw  away  her  reserved,  haughty 
airs  and  graces  and  to  revel  in  tender,  intimate  con- 
fidences. She  was  trying,  evidently,  in  this  one  even- 
ing, to  lay  her  whole  soul  bare  to  him,  and  in  return, 
to  explore  all  of  his.  He  lent  himself  with  rare  pa- 
tience and  thoughtfulness  to  her  plans — not  any  longer 
as  a  mere  matter  of  policy.  She  was  his  now.  He 
would  not  fail  to  hold  her.  He  did  it  because  he 
wanted  in  all  truth  to  pay  a  fair  price  for  what  he 
was  taking.  It  was  not  his  habit  to  cheat.  Men  and 
women,  of  course,  must  yield  to  his  plans,  but  he 
meant  to  be  to  all  men  and  women  a  wise  and  con- 
siderate master,  and  above  all  others,  he  would  be  so 
to  this  girl. 

Curiously  enough,  therefore,  this  hour  of  studious 
deception    brought    complete    balm    to    his    troubled 

10  HS 


THE  CONQUEST 

thoughts.  His  spasm  of  horrified  compassion  for  Hilda 
passed  away  entirely.  She  would  suffer  neither  harm 
nor  unhappiness  in  his  hands.  See  how  joyous  he  had 
made  her  already!  She  would  never  find  him  lack- 
ing. He  could  manage,  somehow,  always  to  give  her 
the  consideration,  the  imaginative  sympathy,  which 
would  be  better  for  her  than  some  other  man's  stupid 
love.  It  was  true  it  would  call  for  no  small  amount 
of  his  precious  energy.  It  would  be  rather  hard  on 
him,  but  he  would  render  it — ^yes,  cheerfully!  It 
was  only  just. 

He  was  unable  to  comprehend  fully  his  own  tran- 
quillity. He  remembered  vividly  the  night  of  anguish 
he  had  spent  after  parting  with  Margaret.  Even  now, 
he  believed  his  heart  was  still  sore  because  of  the 
wound  he  had  then  dealt  to  her  and  to  himself.  To- 
night, he  had  done  something  even  more  trying — 
something  which  struck  at  his  past,  his  present  and  his 
future.  There  had  been  a  brief  spasm  of  pain  and 
already,  before  the  episode  had  been  actually  con- 
cluded, his  mind  and  his  conscience  were  at  peace. 
He  found  time,  in  the  midst  of  this  strange  betrothal 
night,  to  wonder  what  had  happened  to  him  in  these 
six  busy  years.  Had  he  become  better  or  worse,  now 
that  he  could  chat  and  laugh  and  seem  alternately 
tender  and  serious,  as  he  planned  out  a  future  with 
this  girl,  whose  love  he  had  been  forced  to  steal  ? 

146 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

Well,  since  it  had  to  be  done,  he  had  given  it  the 
same  thought  and  attention  he  would  have  devoted 
to  any  other  task,  and  his  result  was  no  less  perfect 
than  he  was  accustomed  to  achieve.  There  remained 
but  one  more  step  to  be  taken.  He  must  be  free  to  speak 
of  this  proposed  marriage  to  whomever  he  desired. 
A  secret  engagement  would  be  worthless  to  him.  He 
must  be  at  liberty  to  hurl  the  name  of  Hilda's  father 
full  in  the  face  of  Reynolds;  and  Reynolds  must  be 
sure  to  find  confirmation  of  the  story  from  any  gossip 
he  might  buttonhole  on  the  street. 

He  was  confident  there  would  be  no  difificulty  in 
gaining  this  last  necessary  object  of  his  policy. 

"  I  may  tell  people,  mayn't  I  ?  "  he  asked  eagerly, 
but  not  too  eagerly.  "  I  want  to  shout  it  to  every- 
one I  know.  I'm  almost  afraid  I  couldn't  keep  such  a 
secret,  even  if  I  tried." 

"  I  thought  you  belonged  to  the  profession  which 
can  keep  a  secret,"  she  said  gaily.  "I  understood 
lawyers  prided  themselves  on  that  ability." 

"  Don't  you  know,"  he  replied,  "  that  a  drunken 
man  has  no  sense  of  pride,  and  you've  intoxicated  me? 
But  I'm  a  paradox,  because  in  spite  of  my  drunken 
state,  you've  given  me  a  new  pride,  and  a  wonderful 
one.  Seriously,"  he  added,  "  if  we're  going  to  be 
married  half  as  soon  as  I  hope,  I'll  have  to  begin  im- 
mediately to  make  plans  for  a  vacation.  Think  of  it! 
I  haven't  left  my  work  for  one  day  in  all  these  years. 

147 


THE  CONQUEST 

I  must  arrange  long  beforeliand  to  keep  prosy  busi- 
ness details  from  interfering  with  our  happiness." 

She  laughed  at  him  mischievously.  "  You're  so 
important !"  she  announced. 

"  I  am/'  he  retorted  promptly.  "  I'm  going  to  have 
Hilda  Cameron  for  my  wife." 

"  Well,"  she  assented,  "  if  you  put  it  that  way,  I 
can  refuse  you  nothing!  But  you  have  to  begin  your 
proclamations  by  telling  father.  Doesn't  that  chill 
your  ardor?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  replied.  "  That  will  be  fun. 
If  he  hasn't  gone  to  bed,  let's  have  him  down  here 
now." 

"  I  was  almost  praying  you'd  be  afraid  of  him," 
she  confessed.  "  A  wife's  a  failure  if  she  can't  dis- 
cover some  secret  weakness  in  her  husband.  How  am 
I  going  to  manage  you?  " 

"  You're  not!  "  he  assured  her  with  gay  confidence, 
"  though  I  have  as  many  points  of  weakness  as  the 
porcupine  has  quills.  But  fear  doesn't  happen  to  be 
one  of  them.    Why  should  I  be  afraid  of  your  father  ?  " 

"  Everyone's  a  little  afraid  of  father,"  she  an- 
swered, "  except  me.  And  I  am  too,  once  in  a  while ; 
but  I  never  let  him  know  it,  and  six  days  in  the  week,  he 
obeys  me  beautifully.  I  think  he's  just  about  as  much 
afraid  of  me  as  I  am  of  him.  Anyhow,  since  you're 
a  hero,  without  any  trace  of  cowardice,  I'll  send  for 

148 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

him  and  whisper  in  his  ear  that  he  shall  storm  at 
you." 

John  caught  her  by  the  shoulder  and  made  a  gentle 
pretense  at  shaking  her.  "  If  he  storms  at  me  some  of 
the  tempest  will  drench  you,  my  lady.  You  forget 
you  and  I  row  in  the  same  boat  hereafter.  But  your 
father's  in  a  rare  good  humor  with  me.  He  telephoned 
me  to-day  to  tell  me  so." 

"  Father's  humors — good  and  bad — don^t  always 
last  till  bed  time,"  she  warned  him  mockingly.  "  You'd 
better  press  an  agonized  kiss  of  parting  on  my  lips! 
In  an  hour  I  may  be  torn  from  your  longing  arms  for- 
ever." 

If  his  kiss  was  not  altogether  rapturous,  it  was  be- 
cause of  emotions  she  did  not  guess,  and  his  calm,  al- 
most insolent,  belief  in  his  ability  to  take  care  of  him- 
self and  of  her,  too,  filled  her  with  secret  thrills  of  hap- 
piness and  admiration  for  this  strong  young*  conqueror, 
who  nevertheless,  wanted  and  needed  her. 

Daniel  Cameron  came  into  the  drawing-room 
promptly  after  the  man-servant  had  brought  him  word 
of  Mr.  Howard's  desire  to  speak  to  him  before  leav- 
ing. He  was  a  man  built  on  massive  lines, — heavy,  but 
tall  enough  not  to  seem  unwieldy.  His  eyes  were 
shaded  by  thick,  gray  brows,  which  gave  him  an  ex- 
pression of  fierceness  whenever  his  face  was  in  repose. 
He  knew  this  look  had  a  business  value,   and  did 

149 


THE  CONQUEST 

nothing  to  minimize  its  effect.  It  had  often  occurred 
to  John  that  had  this  man  lived  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  instead  of  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth,  he 
would  have  been  a  bold  buccaneer,  and  a  highly  suc- 
cessful one  at  that — over-bearing,  ruthless,  and  with 
no  burdensome  delicacies. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  was  Cameron's  greeting,  as 
he  held  out  his  hand, — partly  in  welcome  and  partly 
in  congratulation  because  of  the  case  John  Howard  had 
won  for  him,  "  when  I  was  your  age,  it  was  considered 
courteous,  upon  calling  at  a  home,  to  ask  to  see  the 
parent  as  well  as  the  daughter;  you  trusted  he  would 
retire  gracefully  early  in  the  evening." 

John  smiled  at  him  winningly,  as  he  prepared  an 
impertinence  by  way  of  reply.  He  knew  perfectly  well 
Cameron  liked  best  those  few  men  whom  he  couldn't 
terrify. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Cameron,"  he  told  him  gravely,  to 
Hilda's  intense  but  hidden  delight,  "  the  custom  you 
speak  of  went  out  of  vogue  some  twenty  years  ago,  be- 
cause the  fond  parent  too  often  neglected  his  part  of 
the  duty.  Girls,  you  know,  have  a  certain  charm  which 
sometimes  remains  concealed  from  ardent  swains  in 
the  presence  of  stem  fathers." 

"  You  impudent  young  rascal,"  Cameron  answered, 
smiling  good-humoredly.  "  You  suppose  because 
you've  hood-winked  the  Court  of  Appeals  you  may 
say  whatever  you  like ;  but  I'm  more  important  than  a 

ISO 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

mere  court.  I  hold  the  whip  hand.  If  you  say  an- 
other word  I  don't  Hke,  I'll  cut  your  fee  in  half." 

His  humor  perhaps  lacked  something  of  good  taste, 
but  he  himself  found  it  amusing. 

** You're  wrong,  sir,"  John  continued,  in  the  same 
even  tone,  while  he  shot  a  mirthful  glance  at  Hilda,  to 
warn  her  of  the  mine  he  now  proposed  to  spring.  "  It's 
I  who  hold  the  whip  hand.  I've  made  a  treaty  of 
alliance  with  your  own  commanding  officer.  As  for  the 
fee,  I've  already  collected  it  in  advance.  I'm  going  to 
run  off  with  Hilda." 

Cameron  was  in  truth  genuinely  surprised.  He 
was,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  delighted  at  his  daughter's 
wise  choice.  He  had  not  hoped  for  such  an  eminently 
eligible  son-in-law.  Of  course,  he  was  in  no  hurry  to 
lose  Hilda.  Since  her  mother's  death,  he  had  rather 
liked  to  know  she  was  somewhere  around — to  be  petted 
or  bullied  and  to  wheedle  things  out  of  him,  accord- 
ing to  his  mood  and  hers.  Nevertheless,  she  must,  of 
necessity,  marry  some  day,  and  he  had  vaguely  made 
sure  it  would  be  some  young  witless  idler,  whom  he 
would  be  forced  to  pension,  or  some  business  associate 
of  his  own,  too  old  to  be  much  of  a  companion  for  his 
girl.  But  here  was  this  Howard  chap,  of  just  about 
the  proper  age,  a  man  who  had  already  shown  more 
than  promise — a  lawyer  of  real  brilliancy  who  wouldn't 
want  to  dangle  around  living  at  his  wife's  expense. 
He  could  have  made  the  fellow  very  useful  to  him  even 

151 


THE  CONQUEST 

as  a  mere  paid  attorney ;  but  since  he  was  to  be  his  son, 
it  would  be  practically  giving  responsibilities  to  a 
younger  and  more  efficient  self.  It  was  almost  unbe- 
lievably good  that  he  should  have  taken  a  fancy  to 
Hilda. 

He  wouldn't  be  easy  to  manage.  He  was  a  hard- 
headed  young  fellow,  with  a  will  of  his  own.  Came- 
ron liked  him  none  the  less  because  of  it.  He  hated 
soft  men, — or  women  either,  for  that  matter.  Prob- 
ably, John  Howard  would  want  to  drive  a  hard  bar- 
gain about  money.  He  was  no  fool.  His  fees  were 
consistently  large,  and  he  would  reasonably  expect 
Hilda's  dowry  to  be  no  paltry  one.  After  all,  what 
did  it  matter?  He  wasn't  the  man  to  waste  it.  He 
was  a  steady-going  chap  and  too  good  a  business 
man  for  dissipation.  Cameron  decided  he  wouldn't 
grudge  them  something  handsome.  After  all,  he  had 
no  other  children.     What  else  was  the  money  for? 

Not  that  he  meant  to  be  foolish  enough  to  let 
them  know  how  pleased  he  really  was.  Such  was  not 
his  manner  of  dealing  with  people.  If  this  thoroughly 
alert  young  man  were  fully  aware  how  welcome  this 
marriage  actually  was  to  Cameron,  there  might  be  no 
limit  to  his  demands.  The  old  financier  had  some- 
thing Howard  desired,  which  might  be  withheld  if 
he  chose.  It  would  be  prudent  not  to  forego  his  ad- 
vantage too  easily. 

Therefore,  he  scowled  angrily,  as  he  turned  on 
»5* 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

John  and  Hilda,  and  his  voice  was  harsh  as  he  said: 
"  So !  You've  settled  it  all  without  having  done  me 
the  honor  to  consult  me !  Do  you  think  my  daughter 
is  to  be  married  in  any  such  off-hand  fashion — like  a 
beggar  girl  from  the  street?  '' 

His  displeasure  was  cleverly  enough  simulated  to 
deceive  Hilda,  but  John,  accustomed  to  weighing  the 
motives  of  witnesses,  was  not  blinded  for  an  instant. 
It  was  against  all  probability  for  Hilda's  father  to  be 
annoyed  at  this  betrothal.  John  knew  himself  to  be 
in  every  way  a  highly  desirable  son-in-law — at  least, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  Daniel  Cameron.  Why 
should  he  make  any  objection?  It  was  a  mere  petty  out- 
burst, intended  to  demonstrate  at  the  very  beginning 
how  powerful  he  was. 

With  a  peremptory  gesture,  he  silenced  Hilda,  who 
was  plainly  about  to  wheedle  and  to  plead.  There 
should  be  none  of  that.  He  meant  to  put  things 
promptly  on  a  proper  basis. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Cameron,"  he  insisted  suavely,  "  I 
don't  understand  just  what  you  mean  by  consulting 
you.  There  wasn't  anything  to  consult  about.  We 
took  you  into  our  confidence  immediately  after  we 
had  decided  things  for  ourselves — or  at  least,"  he 
added,  with  his  disarming  smile — "  after  a  reasonably 
decent  interval  for  the  exchange  of  such  intimate 
thoughts  as  would  hardly  have  proved  interesting  to 
you. 

153 


THE  CONQUEST 

"As  to  our  marriage  itself,  you  must  see  clearly 
how  little  value  anyone's  advice — even  yours — could 
have  for  us.  It  will  be  Hilda  who  must  put  up  with  a 
husband's  vagaries,  and  it's  only  fair  for  her  to  be 
allowed  to  select  him  without  interference.  But  you're 
going  to  have  your  share  of  our  happiness.  You'll  be 
glad  to  see  things  go  well  with  your  daughter,  and  for 
your  part,  you've  never  found  it  particularly  difficult 
to  get  along  with  me.  I  have  no  doubt  you'll  even  find 
me  somewhat  useful  to  you.  Come  now,"  he  ended, 
smiling  again,  "  you  talk  about  the  customs  when  you 
were  my  age.  All  the  good  old  traditions  constrain 
you  to  gather  us  in  your  arms — or  at  least  as  much  of 
us  as  your  arms  will  hold — and  to  give  us  a  conven- 
tional blessing." 

Cameron  decided  there  was  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  roaring  at  a  man  who  wouldn't  be  frightened,  par- 
ticularly if  you  didn't  want  to  alienate  him  too  far. 
So  he  began  temporizing. 

"  You  young  people  take  a  man's  breath  away  with 
your  sudden  decisions,  and  then  expect  him  to  smile 
and  be  graceful.  However,  if  you  really  want  him, 
Hilda — do  you  want  him?  "  he  interrupted  himself  by 
asking. 

Hilda  smiled  demurely  and  nodded.  "Aren't  you 
going  to  say  you're  glad.  Dad?  Aren't  you  glad, 
really?" 

154 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

The  old  man  allowed  himself  to  be  cajoled  into  a 
smile.  "  H  you  want  him,  and  you've  got  him,  I 
don't  see  what  I  can  do  but  be  glad.  Don't  you  always 
have  yQur  own  way  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  But  see  here,  Howard,"  he  went  on,  "  when  a 
girl  like  Hilda  marries,  you  have  experience  enough  to 
know  how  many  things  are  involved  beside  the  mere 
fact  of  her  being  fond  of  a  man.  There  are  all  sorts  of 
necessary  business  arrangements.  H  the  two  of  you  can 
tear  yourselves  apart  for  awhile  and  you'll  come  into  my 
library,  we'll  light  a  pair  of  cigars  and  talk  this  over. 
If  your  ideas  are  reasonable — and  I  assume  they  are — 
perhaps  we  can  manage  to  agree  very  amicably." 

Hilda  rose,  expecting  the  men  to  leave  her,  but 
John  surprised  both  father  and  daughter  by  announcing 
calmly : 

"  That  doesn't  seem  necessary  to  me,  sir.  I  can 
think  of  no  business  arrangement  we  cannot  discuss 
before  Hilda.  I'd  rather  she  knew  clearly  just  what 
I  have  to  say.  Besides,  there's  no  room  for  any  debate 
or  dissatisfaction  either  on  your  part  or  mine.  I  sup- 
pose you're  thinking  about  something  in  the  nature  of 
a  dowry  or  marriage  settlement,  and  while  it's  mighty 
good  of  you,  I'm  sure  we'll  get  along  much  better  with- 
out it.  I  can  make  all  the  money  Hilda  needs — all 
that's  good  for  her.  It  won't  do  her  a  bit  of  harm  to 
go  without  a  few  of  the  luxuries  you've  strewn  all 
around  this  home.  The  real  comforts  we'll  have,  and 

I5S 


THE  CONQUEST 

in  the  meantime,  we'll  live  according  to  the  scale  of 
my  income — not  yours.  Pretty  soon,  I'll  have  more 
money  than  we'll  know  how  to  spend. 

"  Such  an  arrangement  will  be  best  for  all  of  us. 
Neither  you  nor  Hilda  will  ever  get  the  idea  I  wanted 
your  money  rather  than  herself.  As  for  me,  it's  the 
only  way.  I  wouldn't  impair  my  self-respect,  and  of 
course,  I  must  do  nothing  to  jeopardize  that." 

Cameron  was  frankly  puzzled.  Such  haughty  dis- 
regard of  wealth  was  absolutely  beyond  his  comprehen- 
sion. Hilda  was  lifted  out  of  her  usual  world  by  the 
spectacle  of  her  lover's  nobility  and  disinterestedness. 
Cameron  was  not  altogether  enraptured.  Howard 
he  knew  to  be  a  canny  young  man.  It  was  not  always 
a  good  sign  when  a  man  clung  so  steadfastly  to  his 
independence.  He  would  certainly  find  John  Howard 
less  pliant  than  a  member  of  the  Cameron  family 
ought  to  be. 

There  was,  however,  nothing  further  to  be  said. 
The  young  man  had  asked  for  no  advice.  He  had 
merely  told  what  he  intended  doing  and  Hilda  was 
completely  under  his  spell.  Evidently,  he  must  be 
accepted  on  his  own  terms  or  rejected  altogether;  and 
Cameron  had  no  idea  of  rejecting  him. 

"  Well  then,"  was  the  older  man's  conclusion,  "  you 
leave  me  nothing  further  to  say,  except  that  should 
you  change  your  mind  at  any  time,  you  can  still  come 
to  me  and  tell  me." 

256 


THE  HEAT  OF  BATTLE 

"  Thanks,"  John  replied,  taking  his  hand,  "  but  I 
shan't  change  my  mind." 

"  You  will,  of  course,  refuse  to  accept  all  fees  from 
me  hereafter,  since  you're  so  proud,"  Cameron  sug- 
gested, his  heavy  humor  coming  once  more  to  the 
surface. 

"  Not  one  bit  of  it,"  John  told  him  cheerfully,  "  I 
hope  ril  do  plenty  of  work  for  you,  just  as  though  I 
were  not  married  to  Hilda,  and  you  may  be  sure  Til 
charge  you  for  it  exactly  what  it's  worth." 

The  old  man,  still  holding  John's  hand,  put  his  left 
arm  around  his  daughter,  and  drawing  her  to  him, 
kissed  her  on  the  lips. 

"  Well,  well,"  was  his  final  word,  "  I  suppose  the 
three  of  us  will  manage  to  get  along  pretty  well  to- 
gether. As  for  my  money,  if  you  don't  want  it,  I'll 
give  it  to  your  boys." 

Hilda  colored,  but  John  answered,  without  any  sign 
of  embarrassment,  '*  I  hope  you  will,  sir, — some  day." 

Yet  of  the  two,  the  thought  had  pierced  John  more 
vitally.  He  had  not  considered  this  phase.  If  he 
were  to-night  harming  Hilda  Cameron,  his  wrong,  per- 
haps, would  not  end  with  his  life  or  hers.  It  might  be 
carried  along  the  tide  of  countless  generations.  His 
anxieties  and  his  doubts,  stilled  for  the  past  hour  or 
more,  suddenly  re-awakened,  though  only  for  an 
instant. 

iS7 


THE  CONQUEST 

So  they  stood  there,  these  three,  on  the  threshold 
of  the  new  life  opening  before  them. 

As  Daniel  Cameron  looked  at  the  vigorous  young 
man  who  was  to  be  his  son,  he  thought  with  exulta- 
tion :  *'  What  a  lieutenant  he  will  make  for  me !  How 
well  he  will  fit  into  each  of  my  plans !  " 

Hilda,  her  spirit  transformed  by  love's  magic  from 
selfishness  to  altruism,  from  egotist  to  hero  worshipper, 
was  thinking  to  herself :  ''  How  good  he  is — not  merely 
strong !  and  it  is  me  whom  he  loves !" 

While  John,  stifling  the  momentary  re-awakening  of 
his  scruples,  was  reflecting :  "  What  a  price  I'll  have 
to  pay — and  maybe  Hilda,  too!  But  it  couldn't  be 
helped !  One  can't  be  good  and  great  at  the  same  time ; 
and  I  mean  to  be  great !  " 

And  there  was  not  one  of  the  three  whose  thought 
was  truth. 


Book  hi 

THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE  A.  D.  19x3 


I>R.  Deeming's  examination  of  his  patient  had  been 
characteristically  thorough.  He  was  accustomed  to 
tell  his  students  his  reputation  was  built  entirely  upon 
minute  observation,  rather  than  on  any  particular 
degree  of  skill  or  talent.  Doubtless  his  waiting-room 
was  crowded  with  men  and  women.  It  was  always 
crowded.  That  was  no  reason  why  the  doctor  should 
permit  his  work  to  be  hurried.  Besides,  this  particular 
patient  was  there  by  special  appointment  and  was,  in 
addition,  a  man  of  sufficient  prominence  to  awaken 
an  unusual  interest  even  in  a  distinguished  physi- 
cian, prone  to  indulge  the  fond  belief  that  cases  were 
to  be  classified  by  reference  to  diseases  rather  than 
personality. 

But  John  Howard,  who  had  this  morning  done 
Dr.  Deeming  the  honor  to  consult  him,  was  more  than 
an  important  man.  He  was  a  local  institution — almost 
a  national  one.  With  all  his  scientific  detachment,  the 
eminent  diagnostician  could  not  be  blind  to  the  fact. 
When,  thefefore,  Mr.  Howard's  secretary  had  tele- 
phoned the  night  before,  demanding,  rather  than  re- 
questing, an  interview,  the  doctor  had  been  prompt  to 
accede.  It  was  something  of  a  distinction  to  be  brought 
into  such  intimate  relationship  with  the  eminent  lawyer 
and  financier — something  to  be  casually  but  carefully 
H  i6i 


THE  CONQUEST 

mentioned  at  the  next  dinner  of  the  Medical  Faculty. 
It  would  sound  rather  well. 

John  Howard  at  forty-five,  was,  to  all  outward 
appearances,  sufficiently  robust  to  make  one  wonder 
why  Dr.  Deeming  should  find  it  necessary  to  devote  to 
him  more  than  a  hurried  glance.  His  tall  figure  was 
no  less  erect  than  it  had  been  fifteen  years  before.  His 
firm  face  was  as  alert  and  dominating  as  ever.  Had 
it  not  been  for  his  abundant  white  hair,  contrasting  in 
startling  fashion  with  his  youthful  face  and  slender 
body,  one  would  hardly  have  believed  him  old  enough 
to  have  performed  the  feats  of  wizardry  in  law  and 
commerce  of  which  he  was  the  hero. 

This  morning,  however,  his  features  showed  traces 
of  mental  strain.  The  casual  observer  might  have  de- 
tected no  excitement  or  anxiety  in  his  speech  or  manner, 
but  Dr.  Deeming  was  no  mere  casual  observer.  John 
Howard  was  laboring,  with  all  the  intensity  and  self- 
control  which  had  made  him  a  master  among  men,  to 
seem  calm  and  unafraid. 

The  doctor  laid  his  stethoscope  and  blood-pressure 
machine  on  the  table,  and  motioned  to  his  distinguished 
patient  permission  to  replace  the  garments  he  had  been 
compelled  to  remove. 

If  his  prolonged  study  of  John's  chest  and  blood 
vessels  had  brought  him  to  a  conclusion  of  either  good 
or  evil  omen,  the  doctor  gave  no  sign.  The  lawyer, 
accuston?ed  as  he  was  to  reading  the  thoughts  of  men, 

162 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

could  not,  in  spite  of  his  almost  pitifully  acute  scrutiny, 
find  anything  in  Deeming's  face,  but  the  same  cheer- 
ful, thoughtful  serenity  with  which  he  looked  alike 
upon  the  convalescent  and  the  dying. 

''  So !  "  he  murmured  cheerfully.  *'  Now  your 
body  has  told  me  all  it  knows  how  to  say.  Suppose 
we  talk  a  little  more  about  this  mysterious  pain  of 
yours." 

He  picked  up  a  history  card  from  the  table  and  ran 
his  eye  over  it  slowly. 

"  You  are  forty-five  years  old,  I  sec,  Mr.  Howard, 
and  married,  but  have  no  children.'' 

"  Yes,"  John  interrupted,  with  a  shade  of  impa- 
tience in  his  voice.  "  The  history  your  assistant  has 
prepared  is  exact.  I  verified  it  myself  before  I  let  him 
turn  it  in  to  you.  I  realize  that  you're  a  busy  man — 
just  as  I  am." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  curiously  over  the  top 
of  the  card  he  was  reading. 

"  Yes,"  he  drawled  slowly,  "  but  neither  you  nor 
I  must  allow  ourselves  to  be  hurried  this  morning. 
You've  never  been  ill  before,  have  you?  " 

"  Only  grippe,"  John  answered.  "  I've  had  that 
twice  in  the  past  five  years — rather  badly  last  time." 

'*  So,"  the  doctor  murmured  again  inscrutably. 
"  you're  more  of  a  magnate  than  a  lawyer,  I  under- 
stand; but  you  still  try  cases,  don't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  still  very  much  of  a  lawyer,"  John  said, 
163 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  I  try  cases  when  they're  important  and  interesting, 
just  as  other  men  play  golf  or  gamble.  It's  the  most 
absorbing  and  exciting  game  in  the  world." 

"  I  understand,"  Dr.  Deeming  responded,  smiling 
pleasantly  at  this  display  of  human  enthusiasm.  "  Now 
this  pain  you  complain  of — try  to  tell  me  just  when 
you  felt  it  first." 

John  Howard  thought  for  a  minute  before  he  spoke. 
Then  he  replied  slowly :  "  That's  a  hard"  question  to 
answer.  For  over  two  months  now  I  have  had  little 
spasms  of  pain,  but  nothing  like  yesterday's  attack. 
There  would  come  a  sudden,  sharp  twinge  in  the  chest 
— the  neck — the  arm,  the  left  one — a  sense  of  uneasi- 
ness, and  it  would  be  gone  as  suddenly  as  it  came.  It 
wasn't  severe.    I  never  paid  any  attention  to  it." 

"  You  never  consulted  any  physician?  "  Dr.  Deem- 
ing asked. 

"  Certainly  not,"  John  responded  emphatically. 
"  I'm  not  a  nervous  man.  I  haven't  time  to  coddle 
myself.  I  have  no  patience  with  men  who  fidget  about 
their  little  pains  and  aches." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  Deeming  assented  with  grave 
attention.  "  Did  these  pains  come  with  any  noticeable 
regularity?  " 

''  No,"  John  informed  him,  "  not  if  you  mean  at 
definite  intervals  of  time.  They  were  only  regular  in 
choosing  the  most  inconvenient  minute — at  the  climax 

164 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

of  an  argument  in  court,  or  at  some  critical  point  in  a 
directors'  meeting." 

"  I  see,"  observed  the  doctor,  nodding  his  head. 
"  Now  this  more  alarming  attack  of  yesterday — I'd 
like  you  to  tell  me  in  detail  just  where  you  were,  what 
you  were  doing  and  how  it  affected  you." 

The  task  seemed  an  unpleasant  one  to  John,  but  he 
made  no  protest. 

"  It  was  in  Annapolis,  in  the  Court  of  Appeals. 
I  had  been  arguing  the  Thorndyke  will  case.  It  was 
just  the  kind  of  an  argument  I  most  enjoy  making,  and 
I  had  managed  to  get  into  the  minds  of  the  judges  the 
exact  point  of  view  I  wanted.  You  can  gauge  the  im- 
pression you're  making  when  you've  had  as  much  ex- 
perience as  I  have.  I  was  feeling  perfectly  well  and 
almost  absurdly  enthusiastic.  I  felt  sure^ — I  feel  sure 
now — the  case  was  won,  and  it's  been  a  long,  hard 
fight,  with  an  enormous  estate  involved.  Perhaps 
you've  seen  some  notices  regarding  it  in  the  news- 
papers." 

"  I  have,"  the  doctor  stated  laconically,  and  John 
went  on  with  his  story. 

"  Just  at  the  end  of  my  argument,  it  occurred  to  me 
that  a  touch  of  passion — restrained,  of  course,  but  em- 
phasizing the  human  element  of  the  family  quarrel — 
would  be  helpful.  It  would  be  an  effective  climax.  I 
worked  myself  into  the  proper  mood  and  finished  the 
speech  with  as  much  excitement  as  seemed  to  me  to  be 

i6s 


THE  CONQUEST 

effective  in  an  appellate  court.  At  the  very  highest 
point,  I  brought  my  speech  to  a  sudden  end.  Just  at 
this  instant,  the  pain  came.  I  never  felt  anything  as 
excruciating.  It  seemed  as  though  my  heart  were  being 
squeezed  mercilessly  in  a  vise;  I  thought  I  was  going 
to  die.  I  believed  then  it  had  lasted  an  eternity,  but  it 
couldn't  have  been  more  than  a  minute  or  two,  because 
when  it  was  over,  I  noticed  the  judges  were  still  col- 
lecting their  papers.  They  hadn't  had  time  to  leave 
the  bench.  In  the  confusion  of  the  court's  adjourn- 
ment, no  one  noticed  me  but  my  young  assistant.  I 
didn't  call  for  help.  I  don't  know  just  why.  It  was 
not  because  I  would  have  been  ashamed.  I  was  in  too 
much  pain  to  think  of  anything  like  that.  This  young 
man  saw  I  had  fallen  back  into  my  chair,  rather  than 
seated  myself.  He  brought  me  water  and  asked  what 
he  could  do  for  me." 

"And  then?  "  the  doctor  prompted,  as  John  paused. 

"  Then  I  had  sense  enough  to  tell  him  I  felt  slightly 
indisposed,  but  that  he  should  make  no  scene.  I  didn't 
want  it  spread  over  the  newspaper  headlines.  Even  if 
I  didn't  hate  such  things  anyhow,  it  might  have  affected 
the  market  value  of  some  of  my  securities.  I  sat 
quietly  where  I  was  for  a  few  minutes,  trying  to  pull 
myself  together.  I  suppose  I  looked  badly  shaken. 
Young  Iverson  says  I  did.  A  few  people  tried  to  con- 
gratulate me  on  my  argument.  Iverson  managed  to 
shunt  them  off,  and  he  helped  me  into  my  motor.     It 

i66 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

was  waiting  for  me  at  the  curb.  I  had  been  driven 
down  to  AnnapoHs,  instead  of  coming  in  the  train. 
Iverson  told  the  chauffeur  to  drive  back  to  Baltimore 
very  slowly  and  we  were  over  two  hours  making  the 
trip.    I  was  utterly  limp." 

"  When  you  got  home,  you  were  better? "  Dr. 
Deeming  asked. 

"  Yes.  Then  I  had  my  secretary  call  you,  and  that's 
all."  John  scrutinized  the  physician  sharply  as  he 
awaited  some  verdict. 

The  doctor  drummed  softly  with  his  fingers  on  his 
desk  before  reaching  for  a  pad  of  prescription  blanks. 
His  pen  travelled  awkwardly  over  the  paper  for  what 
seemed  to  John  an  unwarranted  length  of  time.  The 
lawyer  interrupted  impatiently. 

"  Well,  Doctor,  what  do  you  make  of  it?  " 

The  physician  permitted  his  expression  to  shcfw  a 
slight  displeasure.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  being 
forced  to  stand  and  deliver  an  opinion.  He  was  about 
to  prescribe,  to  tell  his  patient  what  he  must  do  and 
refrain  from  doing!  For  a  layman  that  should  have 
been  sufficient.  Of  what  use  could  it  be  to  name  a  dis- 
ease to  a  man  whose  only  business  was  to  follow  the 
advice  he  was  about  to  receive?  But  then  he  remem- 
bered the  unusual  character  of  John  Howard,  and  he 
smiled  the  exasperating  smile  of  professional  tolerance. 

"  Mr.  Howard,"  he  said,  "  youVe  spent  over 
twenty  years  forcing  men  and  things  to  do  exactly 

167 


THE  CONQUEST 

what  youVe  planned.  And  you've  succeeded  at  your 
work  wonderfully  well.  But  you  forgot  that  when 
you  were  born,  Nature  put  that  mind  of  yours  into  a 
poor  human  body — just  like  other  men's.  You've  got 
to  give  it  some  consideration.  It's  crying  out  for  a 
long  rest." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  a  long  rest?"  John  de- 
manded in  the  manner  of  the  expefrienced  cross- 
examiner. 

"  I  mean,"  Deeming  replied,  with  a  discomfort 
which  did  not  escape  the  questioner,  "  you  must  spend 
to-day  closing  all  your  business  affairs.  To-morrow 
you  must  be  completely  out  of  touch  with  your  work. 
You  must  try  no  cases.  You  must  let  others  direct 
the  policies  of  your  corporations.  There  must  be  abso- 
lutely no  mental  strain  or  excitement — not  much 
physical  exertion,  either.  I'll  give  you  a  prescription 
and  a  diet  list — or  better  still,  I'll  telephone  Mrs.  How- 
ard.    Shall  I  find  her  at  home  during  the  day  ?  " 

"  You  will  not,"  John  rapped  out  peremptorily. 
"  You'll  have  to  talk  to  me.    My  wife's  at  Palm  Beach." 

"  Oh !  "  Deeming  exclaimed,  "  that's  wonderfully 
opportune!  You  can  join  her  there  at  once.  I'll  dic- 
tate a  letter  to  her  at  lunch  time,  giving  her  full  direc- 
tions for  taking  care  of  you.  I  find  it's  always  better 
to  deal  with  the  real  head  of  the  family.  I'm  a  married 
man  myself." 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

His  witticism  fell  absolutely  flat  against  the  wall 
of  John's  pale,  resolute  insistence : 

"  Do  me  the  favor,  Doctor,  not  to  communicate 
with  my  wife.  I  prefer  that  she  should  not  be 
troubled.  I  desire  to  control  the  situation  myself.  Let 
us  suppose  I  follow  your  advice  faithfully — devote  to 
it  all  the  energy  and  attention  I  would  give  to  any 
other  important  matter.  When  can  I  go  back  to 
work?" 

"  Now,  Mr.  Howard,"  Dr.  Deeming  protested 
suavely,  "  surely  you  can  see  what  an  unfair  question 
you  put.  How  can  I  foretell  the  progress  of  your 
improvement?  It  is  now  January.  Come  back  to  me 
when  the  season  ends  at  Palm  Beach,  and  I'll  go  over 
you  again.  The  first  day  you're  ready  for  work,  I'll 
tell  you  so." 

The  physician  turned  to  complete  the  prescription 
and  the  diet  list.  He  seemed  to  believe  the  consulta- 
tion was  approaching  its  end;  but  John  Howard  did 
not  rise.  He  settled  himself  firmly  in  his  chair  and 
began  talking  in  that  quiet,  masterful  tone  of  his  own, 
which  had  never  failed  to  arrest  attention. 

"  Doctor,  I  don't  know  who  was  the  last  man  seated 
in  this  chair  where  I  am  now,  but  I  do  know  you'll 
have  to  treat  me  after  another  fashion  than  sufficed 
for  him.  I  am  a  different  sort  of  man.  I've  had  a 
different  training.  I'm  not  to  be  put  off  with  pretty 
phrases.  It's  been  my  business  to  learn  how  men  think. 
.      169 


THE  CONQUEST 

I've  questioned  many  medical  witnesses,  and  at  this 
minute  I've  a  good  working  idea  of  your  mental  proc- 
esses. You're  a  kind  man.  You  hate  to  tell  people 
unpleasant  truths.  That's  not  always  the  wisest  way 
to  handle  men — anyhow,  not  men  like  me.  I  want  you 
to  talk  to  me  as  though  I  were  a  physician  like  your- 
self." 

"  But  you're  not  a  physician,  sir,"  Deeming  ob- 
jected, vigorously,  but  still  deferentially.  "  Undoubt- 
edly, you  have  picked  up  some  knowledge  of  medical 
phrases,  but  if  I  talked  4:o  you  as  one  physician  to 
another,  you'd  receive  false  and  exaggerated  impres- 
sions— impressions  which  could  only  result  in  your 
own  morbid  discomfort." 

"  Then  you're  willing  to  admit  I'd  have  some 
ground  for  alarm  if  I  knew  what  was  the  matter  with 
me?"  John  shot  back  at  him,  with  a  mirthless  smile. 

Deeming  became  aware  of  having  blundered  into 
the  lawyer's  trap.  His  manner  showed  some  con- 
fusion, as  he  cast  about  rather  helplessly  for  a  sooth- 
ing explanation ;  but  John  Howard  came  to  his  rescue 
before  he  had  fully  collected  his  thoughts, 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  manufacture  an  eva- 
sion, Doctor,"  he  advised,  wearily.  "  You've  told  me 
all  I  need  to  know." 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,"  Deeming  began,  "  you  must 
not  assume^ " 

"  Nor  should  you  assume,"  broke  in  the  patient, 
170 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

"  that  a  man  like  myself  would  come  to  such  an  inter- 
view as  this,  totally  unprepared  to  discover  the  answer 
to  a  simple  question,  capable  of  being  satisfied  in  two 
words,  but  involving  everything  in  the  world  to  him- 
self. I  was  prepared,  and  I  am  answered.  You  will 
believe  me  to  be  perfectly  aware  of  my  malady  when  I 
tell  you  the  prescription  you  are  now  writing  calls  for 
little  glass  capsules  filled  with  amyl  nitrite.  You  will 
order  me,  when  I  feel  the  slightest  indication  of  an 
approaching  attack,  to  crush  one  and  inhale  its  con- 
tents. That's  <o  be  my  profession  for  the  brief  time 
still  before  me.  When  I  leave  your  office,  you  will 
mark  on  your  history  blank  the  diagnosis  'Angina 
Pectoris '  and  the  prognosis  *  Hopeless.'  " 

Deeming  was  completely  silenced  for  a  minute  by 
this  unusual  invalid.  Most  of  his  patients  lent  them- 
selves more  than  willingly  to  schemes  intended  to  buoy 
up  their  hopes — no  matter  how  ill-fotmded;  but  this 
strange  creature  seemed  to  find  a  perverted  delight  in 
wringing  from  him  the  last  drop  of  absolute  -truth  and 
was,  in  the  bargain,  too  keen-witted  to  be  deceived. 
The  physician  was  driven  to  take  refuge  in  telling  the 
simple  facts. 

"  Mr.  Howard,"  he  informed  him,  "  sometimes  it 
doesn't  make  for  happiness  to  want  to  know  all  your 
doctor  knows,  and  to  be  clever  enough  to  wrench  from 
him  the  things  he  meant  to  spare  you.  But  you  chose 
for  yourself.     You  would  know  the  truth,  and  now 

171 


THE  CONQUEST 

you  know  it;  but  you're  wrong  in  assuming  you  have 
nothing  to  look  forward  toward  except  death.  One 
may  have  angina  and  live  many  peaceful  years,  pro- 
vided, always,  he  can  bring  himself  to  follow  intelli- 
gent advice.  You  can  arrange  your  mode  of  living  so 
as  to  avoid  all  exciting  elements.  You  need  not  deny 
yourself  any  quiet  pleasures.  Thousands  of  men  have 
journeyed  along  fairly  comfortably  with  angina  as  a 
travelling  companion.  You're  something  of  a  student 
Perhaps  you've  heard  of  the  famous  surgeon,  John 
Hunter?  He  had  it,  but  lived  usefully  to  a  ripe  old 
age." 

John  smiled  sardonically.  "  You've  chosen  a  bad 
example.  Doctor,"  he  observed.  "  Wasn't  Huntef  the 
man  who  said  his  life  wa^  at  the  mercy  of  any  rascal 
who  chose  to  tease  or  vex  him?-  He  died,  I  believe, 
because  he  indulged  himself  in  a  long-deferred  sensa- 
tion of  anger." 

Deeming  bit  his  lips.  This  man  knew  too  much  to 
be  amenable  to  the  conventional  modes  of  comfort. 
Well  then,  he'd  simply  have  to  be  left  to  his  own  re- 
sources. There  was  nothing  else  to  be  said  apparently. 
John  Howard,  however,  thought  of  another  question 
to  ask. 

"  You  spoke  of  Hunter,"  he  said;  "  he  managed  to 
do  his  work  and  still  keep  alive.  Why  can't  I  go  on 
with  mine  ?  " 

Deeming's  dissent  was  emphatic.  "If  your  work 
172 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

were  one  of  dull  routine,  or  if  you  were  a  phlegmatic 
man,  I'd  let  you  do  it;  but  your  matters  a.re  exciting — 
thrilling  sometimes — and  you,  yourself,  a  bundle  of 
nerves.  You  think  you  haven't  any,  because  you're 
not  fidgety.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  your  nervous  system 
is  exquisitely  sensitive.  You've  simply  been  schooling 
yourself  in  repression.  You've  been  living  on  your 
nerves-.  If  you  go  into  court  or  fight  financial  battles 
at  directors'  meetings,  you're  almost  mathematically 
certain  to  have  these  heart  spasms.  Leaving-  out  af 
the  question  the  risk  to  your  life,  you  remember  yester- 
day's pain  too  well  to  want  another  attack." 

"  Well  then,"  John  summed  up  the  matter,  "  you 
want  me  to  eat  and  drink  in  accordance  with  your  list ; 
to  do  no  business  of  any  kind ;  to  avoid  all  excitement, 
physical  and  mental,  and  to  report  to  you  in  a  few 
months." 

*'  Yes,"  Deeming  assented.  "  You'd  better  put 
yourself  in  the  hands  of  some  doctor  at  Palm  Beach. 
Coming  is  a  good  man.    Tell  him  I  sent  you." 

"  May  I  motor  ?  "  John  inquired. 

"  Certainly,  unless  you  are  afflicted  with  speed 
mania.  And  you  may  also  walk  short  distances  and 
devote  yourself  generally  to  all  sane  and  reasonable 
amusements.  You  needn't  behave  as  though  you  were 
a  helpless  invalid.  I  wouldn't  smoke,  though,  if  I 
were  you — unless  you  find  it  makes  you  genuinely  un- 

173 


THE  CONQUEST 

comfortable  to  deprive  yourself.  Then  try  to  get  along 
on  one  or  two  mild  cigars  each  day." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  John  said,  letting  a  hint 
of  bitterness  steal  into  his  voice.  ''  By  refraining  abso- 
lutely from  all  forms  of  living,  you  think  I  may  keep 
alive  till  some  more  vigorous  spasm  makes  its  appear- 
ance." 

The  doctor  felt  he  would  be  false  to  his  position 
as  a  deputy  lieutenant  of  Divine  Providence  if  he 
failed  to  speak  a  word  showing  his  approval  of  the 
simple  beauties  of  resignation  and  patient  content. 

"  Mr.  Howard,"  he  exhorted,  "  when  you  get  over 
the  first  shock  of  this  misfortune,  if  you'll  permit  me 
to  say  it,  you'll  be  a  little  ashamed  of  being  so  rebel- 
lious. Suppose  you  were  a  poor  man,  who  couldn't 
stop  work.  You'd  be  facing  certain  death ;  or  imagine 
yourself  compelled  to  live  without  any  of  the  com- 
forts you're  accustomed  to  enjoy!  Your  position  is 
unusually  fortunate.  You're  a  man  of  enormous 
wealth.  You  may  continue  to  give  yourself  and  your 
family  every  luxury,  with  no  fear  of  financial  disaster. 
You've  accomplished  more  work  than  most  men  could 
crowd  into  a  century.  Your  ambitions  are,  therefore, 
satisfied.  You  have  a  remarkable  mind  which  you  can 
now  quietly  devote  to  the  best  part  of  living — to  con- 
templation and  to  study." 

"  Study?  "  John  repeated,  as  though  he  really  could 
not  comprehend  the  other's  thought.    "  What  could  be 

174     -  - 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

the  purpose  of  my  studies,  when  you  forbid  me  to  put 
to  use  anything  I  might  learn  ?  '' 

The  scientist  found  it  equally  hard  to  grasp  the 
point  of  view  of  the  man  of  affairs.  "  That's  not  why 
men  should  study !  "  he  argued.  "  One  studies  for  the 
love  of  knowledge  itself — for  the  sheer  joy  of  discov- 
ering a  truth  men  never  knew  before."  The  master 
of  research  was  stating  his  creed.  In  his  enthusiasm, 
he  almost  forgot  the  problem  of  his  patient's  broken 
human  life. 

"  Your  mode  of  thought  is  not  mine,"  John  stated 
coldly.  *'  I  didn't  mean  to  whine  to  you.  I  suppose 
you  pass  death  sentences  every  morning.  One  more 
question,  and  I'll  get  out  of  your  way.  I  assume  there's 
no  one,  either  here  or  abroad,  who  knows  any  more 
than  you  about  curing  this  incurable  disease,  is  there?  ** 

Deeming  hesitated.  A  trip  to  Germany  on  a 
journey  of  hope,  however  fantastic,  might  be  the  most 
desirable  prescription  for  this  restless  man,  so  loath 
to  turn  aside  from  his  all-absorbing  activities. 

But  John  Howard  read  his  half-formed  purpose. 
"  For  God's  sake,  Doctor,  don't  lie  to  me  because  you 
want  to  keep  me  amused.  It's  more  important  for  me 
to  know  the  truth  than  to  enjoy  it.  There's  no  one, 
is  there?" 

"  No,"  Deeming  conceded,  reluctantly.  "If  there 
were  anything  of  value  discovered  in  the  treatment  of 

I7S 


THE  CONQUEST 

aiigina,  I'd  know  it  promptly.  I'd  send  for  you  at 
once." 

"And  I  suppose,  also,"  John  continued,  "  it  would 
be  useless  to  set  some  of  your  promising  young  men 
at  the  Johns  Hopkins  to  do  research  work  on  the  prob- 
lem?   The  cost  wouldn't  matter." 

The  seasoned  physician  found  something  very 
pitiful  in  the  quiet,  but  hopeless,  insistence  of  this  man, 
for  the  first  time  facing  a  force  he  could  not  bend  to 
his  will.  He  answered  him  with  all  gentleness,  but 
with  no  more  fruitless  lies. 

"  No,"  was  his  verdict,  "  you  see,  angina  is  not 
really  a  disease.  It's  a  symptom.  The  biggest  and 
most  important  arteries  in  your  body  are  in  bad  shape. 
We  shall  never  learn  to  make  men  over.  Fm  sorry; 
I'd  be  glad  to  hold  out  to  you  bits  of  hope  like  this,  but 
you  won't  have  it." 

"  No,"  the  lawyer  answered,  "  I've  never  in  my 
lifetime  found  any  comfort  in  cheating  myself.  At 
the  end,  I  don't  want  to  change.  Give  me  my  pre- 
scription, and  I'll  go." 

When  the  doctor  had  finished  writing  John  arose 
and  extended  his  hand  in  farewell.  His  cheeks  were 
white,  but  his  voice  was  steady,  and  he  was  completely 
master  of  himself. 

"  Good-bye,  Doctor,"  he  said,  "  I'll  give  your  advice 
and  your  little  sermon  my  earnest  thought."  He  even 
managed  to  assume  a  pale  reflection  of  the  winning 

176 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

smile  so  many  newspaper  men  had  found  a  welcome 
asset  in  describing  him.  ''Apparently,  I'll  have  plenty 
of  time  to  meditate  on  yom*  preachment.'' 

The  effort  at  mockery  passed  from  his  speech,  and 
he  added  very  sincerely,  *'  I'm  genuinely  grateful  to 
you,  none  the  less  because  your  news  is  so  unpalatable. 
That's  not  your  fault.     Good  bye !" 

A  minute  later,  he  was  descending  the  steps  into 
the  midst  of  the  traffic  on  Charles  Street.  He  walked 
slowly,  and  as  though  somewhat  bewildered,  as  he 
crossed  the  pavement  to  his  waiting  limousine.  But 
he  held  himself  rigidly  erect  and  his  stare  was  more 
haughty  than  ever  before.  He  was  not  going  to  be  weak 
— ^not  going  to  make  a  pathetic  spectacle  of  himself 
before  these  people  whose  commercial  life  he  had  been 
able  to  sway,  only  yesterday. 

The  chauffeur  sprang  from  his  seat  and  attempted 
to  assist  him  into  the  machine.  John  loftily  waved 
him  aside. 

"  Where  shall  I  drive,  sir?  "  the  man  asked,  when 
his  master  had  been  seated. 

"  To  the  office,"  John  bade.  It  was  the  familiar 
command,  given  in  the  same  voice  he  had  used  so 
many  times  in  the  past.  He  was  still  John  Howard. 
Neither  man  nor  Fate  had  been  able  to  change  him. 

Then  there  broke  upon  him  the  sudden  realization 
of  where  he  had  been  and  what  he  had  learned  there. 

12  177 


THE  CONQUEST 

His  hand  stole  furtively  to  his  vest  pocket  and  drew 
forth  the  ominous  prescription.  His  chauffeur  started 
at  the  unfamiliar,  slightly  querulous  pitch  in  John's 
voice,  as  he  added,  almost  as  though  some  apology  were 
necessary : 

"  I  forgot,  Thomas ;  first  you  must  drive  me  to  a 
drug  store." 


II 

The  offices  of  Howard  &  Chase,  where  John  made 
his  appearance  a  short  time  after  Dr.  Deeming  had 
dismissed  him,  were  very  different  from  those  they 
had  occupied  fifteen  years  before.  They  embraced  an 
entire  upper  floor  of  one  of  the  city's  tallest  buildings, 
and  were  flooded  with  light  and  air.  At  one  end  of 
the  suite,  through  a  half  open  door,  a  glimpse  of  a 
pretentious  library  could  be  obtained.  Many  offices 
and  consultation  rooms  opened  into  a  large  busy  lobby, 
where  clerks  and  messengers  were  rapidly  passing  to 
and  fro.  The  furnishings,  in  spite  of  their  austerity, 
were  selected  with  a  taste  and  an  eye  for  effect  not 
usually  to  be  found  in  the  business  world.  It  seemed 
as  though  there  had  been  a  definite  intention  to  make  the 
rooms  as  attractive  in  appearance  as  they  could  possibly 
be,  without  in  the  least  degree  restricting  their  useful- 
ness as  law  offices.  John  hurried  through  this  lobby, 
nodding  in  hasty  acknawledgment  of  the  greetings  of 
his  employees.  His  own  room  was  in  a  corner  of  the 
suite,  an  ample,  sunny  room,  with  enormous  windows. 
John  had  selected  its  location  and  planned  its  appearance 
largely  because  of  the  view  it  afforded  of  the  city.  He 
would  never  have  admitted  the  fact  to  his  most  in- 
timate associate,  but  he  found  nothing  so  stimulating 
to  his  imagination  as  the  sudden,  swift  glance  he  would 

170 


THE  CONQUEST 

cast  from  time  to  time  at  this  Baltimore,  lying  at  his 
feet.  It  visualized  for  him  the  prize  he  had  fought 
with  such  grim  courage  and  endurance  to  win,  the 
power  he  had  at  last  firmly  grasped.  It  was  almost 
a  ritual  with  this  stern,  unyielding  worshipper  of 
strength,  each  morning,  when  he  entered  his  office,  to 
gaze  for  a  minute  at  the  city — his  city,  teeming  with 
life,  energy  and  industry — much  of  which  he,  himself, 
had  set  in  motion,  and  all  of  which  he  could  influence 
for  good  or  evil  if  he  chose — turning  its  current  to  the 
left  or  to  the  right,  speeding  its  flow,  or  damming  it 
as  should  seem  to  him  wise  and  proper.  Again  at  night 
— sometimes  it  was  very  late  at  night  when  John  left 
his  office — it  was  his  custom  to  switch  off  his  electric 
lamps  and  stand  for  an  instant  at  his  window,  while 
the  myriad  lights  below  him  kindled  a  reflected  glow 
in  his  own  soul.  Beneath  him  there  were  homes  full 
of  the  quiet  happiness  and  content  so  good  for  the 
average  type  of  men  and  women.  Elsewhere,  there 
were  pleasant  buildings,  where  innocent  amusement 
was  to  be  found;  a  vessel,  with  its  gleaming  radiance, 
would  glide  slowly  from  her  slip  on  her  way  down  to 
the  sea,  and  far  away,  on  the  edge  of  the  picture,  he 
would  note  the  swift  rush  of  a  long  railroad  train, 
seeming,  with  its  brilliantly  lighted  cars,  like  a  magic 
serpent  of  fire. 

In  all  these  enterprises,  the  homes,  the  theatres, 
the  steamships,  the  railroads,  he  was  playing  his  part — 

i8o 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

a  dominant  part.  There  was  no  man  in  all  these  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  who  could  truly  say  that  in  some 
way  or  other  his  life  had  not  been  swayed  by  John 
Howard — even  though  the  financier's  name  was  not 
known  to  him.  As  John  looked  each  morning  and 
night  at  the  fruits  of  his  work,  felt  the  spell  of  the 
city's  beauty,  and  heard  the  hum  of  its  industries,  it 
never  failed  to  thrill  him.  He  would  turn  from  it 
with  a  great  upward  surge  of  emotion,  which  the 
faithful  find  only  in  prayer. 

This  morning,  however,  he  seated  himself  dismally 
at  his  desk  and  picked  up  the  long  engagement  sheet 
which  he  always  found  awaiting  his  arrival.  It  was  to 
have  been  a  busy  day ;  there  were  no  cases  marked  for 
trial  on  his  calendar,  but  one  consultation  after  another 
had  been  arranged  for  him.  He  smiled  sardonically  as 
he  recalled  the  plans  he  had  intended  to  enforce  upon 
each  of  the  men  whose  names  were  written  here.  Of 
what  use  were  they  to  him  now?  Or  he  to  them,  for 
that  matter?  He  rang  impatiently  for  the  office  man- 
ager, and  when  he  came,  held  the  sheet  out  to  him 
peremptorily.  • 

'*  Mr.  Cline,"  he  directed,  "  I  shall  not  keep  any  of 
to-day's  appointments.  Have  each  person  on  my  list 
telephoned  to  that  effect." 

The  clerk  raised  his  eyebrows  slightly.  There  were 
important  names  on  that  list,  but  he  had  been  taught 

l8i 


THE  CONQUEST 

long  before,  the  wisdom  of  advising  Mr.  Chase  and 
obeying  Mr.  Howard. 

This  time,  however,  he  permitted  himself  the  lib- 
erty of  inquiring  rather  pointedly,  "  Shall  I  give  any 
reason,  sir?  The  Directors  of  the  Enterprise  Company 
had  arranged  for  this  appointment  over  a  week  ago." 

"  No,''  John  ordered,  "  no  reasons !  Simply  say  I 
found  it  impossible  to  meet  them.  Then  telephone 
Berg  &  Co.,  my  brokers.  I  want  Mr.  Berg  to  come 
here  as  speedily  as  possible.  Is  Mr.  Chase  in  his 
room  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  Cline  informed  him,  "  he  hasn't  come 
in  yet.    His  earliest  engagement  is  for  eleven  o'clock." 

"  I  want  him  to  come  in  here  as  soon  as  he  reaches 
the  office,"  John  commanded,  "  even  if  it  forces  him  to 
break  his  appointment.  It's  important;  tell  him  so. 
With  the  exception  of  Mr.  Berg  and  Mr.  Chase,  I  wish 
to  see  absolutely  no  one.  You  will  please  make  sure 
I  am  not  disturbed." 

"  Yes  sir,"  Cline  murmured  obediently,  and  left  the 
room. 

It  was  an  odd  experience  to  John  Howard,  halted 
suddenly  in  the  midst  of  his  breathless  orbit  of  life, 
to  find  himself  suddenly  without  any  work  worth  the 
doing.  There  were  hundreds  of  odds  and  ends  to 
which  he  might  have  applied  himself.  But  what  was 
the  use?  Someone  else  might  try  laboriously  and 
slowly  to  knit  together  the  loose  threads  he  could 

I82 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

have  managed  easily  and  quickly.  What  did  it  matter 
if  it  were  done  well  or  ill  ?  His  part  in  all  these  com- 
plex schemes,  infinitely  important  yesterday — infinitesi- 
mally  trivial  this  morning — was  over.  Other  men, 
smaller  men,  would  take  up  his  work.  They  would 
do  it  without  his  skill,  without  his  breadth  of  vision. 
There  was  no  one  really  fit  to  take  his  place.  There 
were  many  things  which  would  go  rather  badly  with- 
out his  guiding  hand.  There  would  be  some  men 
who  would  be  glad  he  was  out  of  the  way — not  that 
his  absence  would  be  of  genuine  benefit  to  them.  They 
would  fall  to  squabbling  amc^g  themselves,  each  striv- 
ing to  pick  up  some  little  fragment  of  his  dead  power, 
like  the  miserable  vultures  they  were.  It  was  really 
distressing,  John  told  himself,  altogether  aside  from 
his  own  part  in  the  calamity.  It  was  absurdly  illogical, 
— purposeless, — that  a  man  like  himself,  impossible  to 
replace  in  financial  circles,  should  be  snatched  from 
his  post  in  this  heedless  fashion.  It  would  be  a  tre- 
mendous loss  to  the  city. 

He  turned  to  the  window  for  a  view  of  the  city; 
for  the  last  time  he  should  see  it  as  a  creature  of  his 
own  destiny.  When  he  left  that  room,  he  would  be 
merely  one  of  the  tiny  creatures  who  could  be  seen 
down  there,  a  dot  of  black,  slowly  moving  along  the 
ribbon  he  knew  to  be  a  wide  street.  He  would  be 
powerless  thereafter  to  change — to  direct — ^any  of  their 
Jives.     His  great  day  would  be  over.     What  matter 


THE  CONQUEST 

whether  or  not  he  dragged  out  a  few  impotent  years 
of  merely  vegetable  existence?  His  real  death  was 
now — now  when  he  ceased  to  be  the  only  John  Howard 
he  could  conceive  of, — the  man  of  authority,  who 
knew  how  to  deal  with  his  city.  He  looked  long  and 
sadly  down  from  his  window,  almost  fancying  he 
could  hear  in  the  faint  sounds  that  rose  from  the 
street  the  sad  voices  of  farewell. 

The  Baltimore  John  now  looked  down  upon  in 
his  silent  misery  had  changed,  with  the  passing  of  the 
years,  far  more  than  John  himself  had  done.  The 
low,  unpretentious,  but  pleasant  sky-line  of  fifteen 
years  before  had  given  place  to  irregular  outlines  of 
lofty  buildings  and  tall,  slender  smoke-stacks.  Quiet 
little  nooks  and  corners  in  the  quaint  old  quarters  of 
the  town  were  now  replaced  by  busy  hives  of  orderly 
brick  and  steel,  where  men  and  women,  ranged  in 
monotonous  ranks  at  clattering  machines,  turned  out, 
in  enormous  quantities,  products  as  empty  of  individu- 
ality as  their  own  working  lives. 

Away  off  in  the  residential  section  could  be  seen 
the  bulk  of  the  huge  apartment  houses  and  hotels, 
which  had  arrogantly  elbowed  out  of  the  way  rows 
of  little  red  brick  houses,  each  set  behind  a  comfortable 
shade  tree.  In  the  foreground,  one  might  look  down 
on  the  great  white  court-house — now  no  longer  new, — 
already  beginning  to  acquire  a  certain  tradition  of 
its  own — a  new  tradition,  not  so  much  intolerant  of 

184 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

the  old,  as  utterly  heedless  of  it.  The  men  who  to-day 
hurried  in  and  out  of  its  bronze  doors  were  men  of 
business  (if  only  on  a  tiny  scale),  far  more  than  they 
were  students  or  scientists.  The  judges  who  listened 
to  the  arguments  of  these  men  of  affairs  took  a  just 
pride  in  their  practical  sagacity  and  business  insight, 
as  well  as  in  the  factory-like  speed  with  which  cases 
were  disposed  of  and  court  dockets  cleared.  A  new 
order  had  come  to  all  the  city.  It  was  the  era  of  the 
great  god,  Efficiency. 

The  new  regime  had  been  built  upon  the  spaces 
left  empty  when  the  crumbling  fragments  of  an  old- 
v^or Id-charm  had  been  swept  away,  just  as  the  struct- 
ures themselves  were  built  upon  the  spaces  laid  bare 
by  the  Great  Fire  of  nine  years  before.  But  here  and 
there,  in  the  midst  of  this  new  and  greater  city,  there 
still  remained  some  souvenir  of  a  former  day  of  grace- 
ful, inefficient  charm,  which  the  fire  itself  had  not 
found  the  heart  to  destroy.  In  the  same  way,  even 
in  the  daily  life  of  its  industry  and  thought,  similar 
in  a  thousand  ways  to  those  of  any  other  American 
city,  one  may  also,  to  his  intense  astonishment,  chance 
every  now  and  then  on  a  phrase,  an  idea,  or  an  episode, 
which  tells  him  he  is  still  in  that  Baltimore,  which  in 
another  and  earlier  day,  sent  forth  clipper  ships  to 
bring  back  to  her  lovely  daughters  the  silks  and  per- 
fumes of  India. 

All  the  changes  of  the  past  score  of  years  John 
i85 


THE  CONQUEST 

Howard  had  seen.  Many  of  them  he,  himself,  had 
helped  to  cause.  In  spite  of  his  almost  religious  feeling 
for  the  city,  he  had  given  practically  no  thought  at  all 
to  such  a  subtle  thing  as  the  spirit  which  lies  behind 
the  activities  of  a  town  or  of  a  nation.  He  was  con- 
cerned entirely  with  concrete  things.  Why  a  nation 
wanted  to  grow  bigger — more  efficient — wealthier ;  for 
what  purpose  men  wore  out  their  lives  in  factories 
and  market  places — these  things  were  not  worth  dis- 
cussion. They  were  axiomatic;  such  was  the  nature 
of  Man.  John  assumed  the  full  usefulness  of  these 
desires,  and  believed  the  greatest  single  factor  in  his 
amazing  success  had  been  his  ability  to  typify  the 
spirit  of  this  period,  which  he  and  his  mates  called  an 
era  of  industrial  progress. 

That  his  success  had  been  amazing,  he  never 
doubted.  What  else  could  success  mean?  He  had, 
when  a  mere  boy,  devoted  himself  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  certain  definite  ambitions.  Had  he  spoken  of 
them  in  detail  to  any  man  familiar  with  the  world  of 
affairs,  he  would  have  been  mercilessly  ridiculed,  so 
extravagant  did  his  demands  seem  at  that  time.  Even 
had  he  not  .been  a  stripling,  without  money  or  influ- 
ential friends,  his  dreams  would  have  seemed  absurd. 
He  not  only  intended  to  be  a  distinguished  lawyer,  with 
a  clientele  of  his  own  selection  (other  men,  though 
rarely,  had  succeeded  there),  but  he  insisted  as  a  suc- 
cessful lawyer,  and  without  abandoning  the  role,  h^ 

m 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

would  be  a  prominent  figure  in  the  financial  life  of  his 
community.  He  could  not  be  made  to  see  why  a 
lawyer  should  not  control  banks  and  public  utilities  as 
logically  as  the  man  whose  wealth  had  been  acquired 
in  dry-goods  or  brokerage.  And  his  theories  had  met 
the  test  of  time. 

His  long  upward  climb  had  been  a  series  of  the 
most  carefully  planned  manoeuvres,  sometimes  demand- 
ing the  most  delicate  skill,  the  most  trying  patience 
and  self-control.  But  there  had  never  been  an  hour 
when  he  had  doubted  his  ultimate  triumph  and  his 
progress  had  possessed  all  the  attributes  of  an  inevit- 
able mathematical  demonstration. 

His  father-in-law,  Daniel  Cameron,  had  been  even 
more  useful  to  him  than  he  had  dared  to  hope — not 
consciously,  but  because  John  knew  how  to  employ 
the  force  of  a  strong  name.  He  had  not  been  able  to 
utilize  this  welcome  help  without  the  exercise  of  much 
tact.  There  came  a  time  when  it  suddenly  dawned 
upon  the  testy  old  gentleman  that  he,  and  not  his  daugh- 
ter's husband,  was  the  second  in  command  in  their 
joint  undertakings.  The  revelation  was  not  a  source 
of  happiness.  John  felt  he  had  been  genuinely  con- 
siderate of  Cameron's  feelings.  He  had  made  it  a 
practice  often  to  ask  his  advice,  though  he  rarely  took 
it.  He  entrusted  to  Cameron  matters  of  apparent  im- 
portance, but  in  reality  molded  into  a  form  where  no 
seriously   injurious   results   could   occur,   no   matter 

187 


THE  CONQUEST 

what  was  done.  He  would  then  allow  his  father-in- 
law  to  debate  gravely  what  steps  should  be  taken,  yield 
to  his  views,  after  much  discussion,  and  let  him  put  his 
ideas  into  effect. 

Another  man,  so  circumstanced,  might  have  tossed 
aside  his  worn-out  ally  less  ceremoniously.  It  was 
characteristic  of  John  to  be  a3  deferential  and  as  charm- 
ing as  he  could,  without  in  any  way  allowing  his  plans 
to  be  hampered.  The  old  gentleman  had  served  him 
well,  even  if  he  had  not  intended  doing  so.  John  was 
still  reaping,  and  would  continue?  to-  reap,  the  benefit 
of  their  relationship.  It  was  only  fair  to  expend  some 
effort  in  making  him  comfortable,  and  he  was  made 
fairly  happy.  He  even  grew  to  feel  a  certain  pride  and 
importance  in  being  the  father-in-law  of  this  brilliant 
young  dictator.  Hilda  felt  keenly  the  element  of  gro- 
tesque pathos  in  the  eagerness  of  her.  father  to  gather 
to  himself  this  reflected  glory,  remembering  as  she  did 
how  he  had  once  lorded  it  over  the  financial  clique, 
where  his  sole  importance  was  now  found  in  the  family 
tie  binding  him  to  its  new  monarch. 

The  idea  probably  never  occurred  to  John.  He 
knew  he  was  kind  to  the  old  gentleman.  He  was  sure 
he  had  been  a  good  son  to  him,  and  that  Cameron  was 
fond  of  him.  That  was  enough.  His  kindness  grew 
more  marked  a3  the  old  man  gre.w  feebler  and  had  less 
claim  on  him.  That  was  John's  way.  When  Daniel 
Cameron  had  died,  about  eight  years  after  his  daugh- 

i88 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

ter's  marriage,  he  was  probably  more  attached  to  John 
than  to  Hilda.  Certainly  he  had,  toward  the  last, 
relied  upon  him  more  constantly  and  made  more  de- 
mands upon  his  time  and  companionship.  John  did 
not  grudge  these  services.  They  emphasized  in  his 
own  sight  the  distance  he  had  travelled  in  his  pursuit 
of  success,  and  besides,  he  felt  such  conduct  on  his 
part  could  not  but  seem  to  Hilda  in  the  light  of  a 
graceful  tribute  to  herself. 

For  he  realized  all  too  well  that  things  were  not 
exactly  as  he  had  hoped  in  his  relations  toward  his 
wife.  It  was  not  easy  for  him  to  understand  just 
why.  He  could  think  of  no  instance  where  he  had 
failed  in  any  duty  to  her.  He  had  been  a  pleasant 
and  interesting  companion ;  he  had  allowed  her  to  make 
inroads  upon  his  valuable  time,  almost,  but  never  be- 
yond, the  point  where  it  might  have  interfered  with 
his  work;  she  had  rarely  mentioned  a  desire  he  had 
not  promptly  and  delicately  fulfilled ;  he  had  never  done 
anything,  at  any  time,  which  could  have  caused  her 
anxiety  or  grief.  He  had,  early  in  their  married  life, 
explained  to  her  many  of  his  intricate  matters  of  busi- 
ness, and  had  been  delighted  at  her  quick  and  intelli- 
gent comprehension.  Nor  had  he  swayed  from  the 
resolution  of  their  betrothal  night  to  accept  no  money 
either  from  her  or  her  father.  What  then  could  be 
her  cause  for  complaint  against  him?  He  could  not 
tell;  but  he  did  know,  in  the  months  immediately  fol- 

189 


THE  CONQUEST 

lowing  their  marriage,  the  passionate  enthusiasm  she 
had  displayed  in  her  love  for  him  diminished  before 
his  very  eyes,  and  died.  She  was  an  exemplary  wife. 
She  was  a  charming  and  highly  useful  hostess  to  a 
husband  who  understood  the  commercial  values  of 
intelligent  hospitality.  She  was  an  attractive  com- 
panion. There  was  no  doubt  she  still  admired  vastly  and 
understandingly  her  husband's  genius ;  but  she  gave  few 
evidences  of  any  real  affection.  Her  conversations 
drifted  back  to  the  style  of  somewhat  strained,  but 
interesting,  cleverness  she  had  affected  before  marriage. 
She  was  always  ready  with  a  retort,  containing  at  least 
enough  of  wit  to  arrest  John's  attention.  She  never 
refused  to  listen  to  his  stories  of  the  details  of  his  work, 
and  though  she  usually  understood  them  as  most 
women  would  not  have  done,  and  commented  on  them 
thoughtfully,  she  never  seemed  hungry  for  more.  She 
seemed  to  accept  both  life  and  John  as  matters  of 
routine — not  unpleasant — but  not  exciting  either,  and 
not  worthy  of  any  degree  of  exertion. 

It  was  patent  to  John  that  she  did  not  really  love 
him,  and  the  knowledge  piqued  his  vanity  and  gave 
him  a  constant  sense  of  discomfort.  He  recognized 
frankly  his  own  inability  to  love  her,  but  could  not 
understand  why  this  fact  so  vitally  affected  the  situa- 
tion. Whether  he  loved  her  or  not,  he  was  giving  her 
as  much  of  both  psychic  and  material  things  as  the 
most   adoring   of   husbands    could   have   given   her. 

190 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

He  had  made  studied  and  prolonged  attempts  to  give 
her  the  most  precious  of  all  things, — his  own  intimate 
companionship, — and  she  most  politely,  but  none  the 
less  clearly,  evidenced  a  preference  for  a  common- 
place matter-of-fact  relation  of  daily  good  fellow- 
ship. 

If  she  had  only  made  complaints  and  reproaches, 
given  him  an  opportunity  to  discuss  with  her  their 
points  of  mal-adjustment,  it  seemed  to  him  they  might 
have  arrived  at  some  better  understanding.  But  she 
made  no  response  to  his  efforts  toward  that  end.  She 
taught  herself  to  suppress  all  evidence  of  her  former 
imperious  outbursts  of  temper.  He  always  found  her 
considerate,  merry  and  behind  it  all,  unapproachably 
distant. 

She  must  have  discovered,  he  decided,  in  the  mys- 
terious manner  women  possess,  his  lack  of  what  she 
termed  love,  and  this  was  the  result.  Of  course,  she 
had,  perhaps,  some  ground  for  disappointment,  but  it 
seemed  to  him  she  displayed  a  feminine  lack  of  pro- 
portion. Women  laid  all  the  stress  on  an  emotion  and 
none  on  its  effect!  She  wanted  love  and  she  had  not 
found  it.  But  what  did  she  expect  love  to  give  her? 
What  else,  except  shelter,  protection  from  all  harm, 
an  intimate  companionship  of  hearth  and  of  mind  and 
the  miracle  of  a  renewal  of  life  in  children  ?  All  these 
he  could  give,  and  give  in  a  way  few  other  men  could 
have   done.     Yet  she   accepted   some  of  the  boons 

191 


THE  CONQUEST 

half-heartedly,  and  rejected  others  altogether,  because, 
forsooth,  there  was  something  lacking  in  the  attitude 
of  the  donor!    It  was  absurd. 

Her  rejection  of  children  was  obdurate  and  it  had 
been  a  sore  point  between  them — one  of  the  few  in- 
stances in  their  subtle  lack  of  harmony  which  could 
be  definitely  noted  and  remembered.  In  the  first  happy 
glow  of  their  marriage,  Hilda  had  been  passionately 
desirous  to  become  the  mother  of  a  son,  a  child  who 
should  be  at  once  hers,  and  yet  carry  into  the  next 
generation  his  father's  wonderful  strength  and  reso- 
lution. It  had  been  John  who  had  then  urged  and 
enforced  delay.  He  was  at  that  time  striving  with  all 
his  ingenuity  to  gain  points  of  vantage  in  those  com- 
mercial enterprises  which  seemed  to  him  destined  to 
become  powerful.  This  policy  meant  the  investment 
of  a  huge  proportion  of  his  earnings,  and  during  that 
time  he  was  in  no  mood  to  take  any  step  which  might 
add,  even  in  a  small  degree,  to  his  personal  expenses. 
He  explained  this  necessity  of  economy  to  Hilda  pa- 
tiently, and  in  much  detail.  She  could  not  be  brought 
to  accept  his  point  of  view.  There  was  the  colossal 
fund  of  her  father's  money.  She  had  only  to  ask  and 
receive  whatever  she  might  require.  John,  however, 
was  stubborn.  He  had  determined  to  accept  no  money 
from  his  father-in-law,  and  didn't  mean  to  surrender 
his  position  of  absolute  self-reliance.  There  was  no 
haste.    There  would  be  plenty  of  time  for  children. 

192 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

But  when  the  time  came,  as  it  speedily  did,  that 
John's  income  was  so  vast  as  to  make  the  necessity 
for  economy  of  any  kind  utterly  ridiculous,  Hilda's 
attitude  toward  John  had  undergone  a  change.  He 
waited  for  many  months  in  silence,  hoping  she  would 
once  more  refer  to  her  former  desire,  but  she  studiously 
avoided  the  subject.  Then  he  so  far  stooped  from 
his  dignity  as  to  urge  it  upon  her — even  to  plead  with 
her.  But  on  this  one  question  Hilda,  who  had  learned 
to  meet  his  less  important  wishes  with  such  flexibility, 
was  adamantine.  She  would  not  even  allow  him  to 
debate  the  matter  with  her.  He  never  knew  exactly 
what  had  induced  this  complete  reversal  of  sentiment. 
She  would  simply  state  flatly  she  would  bear  him  no 
child,  and  had  no  desire  to  talk  about  it.  He  was 
deeply  wounded  at  the  time,  and  still  nursed  a  smoul- 
dering sense  of  injury.  For  as  his  success  became  more 
and  more  sure,  his  desire  to  extend  his  dominion  be- 
yond the  span  of  his  own  life  grew  to  be  almost  an 
obsession — all  the  more  gripping  as  he  fully  realized 
he  was  destined  to  disappointment.  He  wanted  to 
found  a  dynasty.  He  had  hoped  there  might  be  a 
long  succession  of  Howards  to  inherit  and  administer 
in  his  own  large  manner  the  fortune  and  the  power 
he  was  so  rapidly  accumulating.  Such  had  been  the 
history  of  the  Vanderbilts  and  the  Goulds  and  many 
other  families  founded  by  strong  men,  who  had  lived 
to  teach  strong  sons  to  receive  and  hold  the  authority 

13  I9S 


THE  CONQUEST 

of  their  fathers.  Why  was  he  to  be  deprived  of  this 
privilege,  the  crown  and  culmination  of  all  earthly 
success  ?  And  Hilda  had  denied  it  to  him  summarily, 
without  giving  him  a  hearing — ^perhaps  because  of 
some  womanish  whim  about  the  absence  of  a  perfect 
love !    He  found  it  indeed  hard  to  forgive. 

It  was  this  one  subject,  more  than  any  other,  which 
made  his  reflections  this  morning  so  bitter.  How 
futile  everything  was!  He  had  worked  as  few  men 
had  ever  done  before.  He  had  been  the  bond-servant 
of  an  idea;  he  had  seen  this  idea  transformed  from 
fancy  into  fact,  at  the  price  of  everything  men  term 
joyous  living.  He  had  been  content  to  be  anxious, 
weary  and  lonely — no  one  could  know  how  lonely! — 
in  order  that  he  might  possess  power.  He  had  gained 
his  object  and  used  it  wisely,  he  told  himself,  for  over 
ten  years,  never  knowing  rest,  always  struggling  to 
maintain  his  dominance,  and  to  make  it  less  unstable. 
Now  he  had  reached  the  end.  For  what  had  he  been 
battling  all  these  long  years?  What  trophies  of  his 
campaigns  could  he  take  with  him  down  into  the 
darkness  of  the  grave?  The  men  who  had  suffered 
privation  to  devote  themselves  to  some  art  or  science — 
men  at  whom  he  had  secretly  scoffed — would  leave  at 
least  a  book,  a  study,  or  a  machine  as  the  fruit  of  their 
short  day  on  earth.  The  common,  worthless  clod  be- 
queathed his  place  to  his  child  and  took  farewell  of 
his  many  friends;  but  he,  John  Howard,  the  master 

194 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

of  thein  all,  would  pass  into  nothingness  without  one 
tangible  monument  of  his  existence.  His  work  other 
men  would  speedily  undo.  He  had  no  child.  He  had 
no  true  friends.  He  left  no  book  or  record  of  his 
thoughts.  He  had  no  thoughts  which  seemed  to  him 
worthy  of  being  put  into  a  book.  His  ideas  were  merely 
personal  devices  for  accomplishing  definite  commercial 
manipulations.  He  had  invented  nothing.  He  would 
leave  merely  a  shadowy  tradition  and  a  huge  pile  of 
dollars  to  be  given  to  Hilda,  whose  inheritance  from 
her  father  would  have  been  more  than  ample,  without 
any  aid  from  him.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  his  sud- 
den call  from  the  ranks  had  not  really  modified  his 
condition.  H  he  had  lived  out  his  three  score  years 
and  ten,  he  must,  nevertheless,  have  faced  this  same 
sense  of  futility  and  mockery  at  the  end.  Still,  as  he 
sat  at  his  desk,  tasting  the  bitterness  of  death,  he  knew 
with  absolute  certainty  that  if  a  reprieve  could  be 
given  him — if  he  might  suddenly  awake  and  realize 
his  fatal  malady  to  have  been  a  horrible  realistic  night- 
mare, he  would  smile  tolerantly  at  the  misery  of  his 
dream,  ring  for  a  stenographer,  and  plunge  without 
delay  into  the  struggle  which  must  ultimately  lead 
him  again  to  the  blankness  and  disillusion  of  this  very 
minute. 

He  was  born  to  fight  for  something.  An  inexor- 
able fate  had  driven  him  on;  he  had  been  so  made, 
whether  he  willed  it  or  not;  he  would  do  it  all  over 

I9S 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  Your  hope  is  misplaced.  Fm  quitting  because 
Vm  not  well.  That  also  is  part  of  a  professional 
confidence." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  Berg  murmured,  and  stood  silent,  ap- 
parently at  a  loss  for  something  appropriate  to  add. 

"  I'm  sorrier  still,"  John  answered,  with  an  effort 
at  pleasantry.  "  I  have  greater  cause  to  be.  I  find 
it's  more  troublesome  to  deal  with  doctors  than  with 
brokers.  I'll  make  arrangements  during  the  day  for 
turning  my  stocks  over  to  you,  endorsed.  You  may 
hold  the  bonds  you  buy,  subject  to  my  orders,  until 
you  hear  from  me." 

"  If  I  need  to  communicate  with  you,  Mr.  Howard, 
shall  I  telephone  you  here?"  Berg  inquired,  his  hand 
on  the  door-knob. 

"No;  what  will  you  want  with  me?"  John  de- 
manded sharply.  "  You  have  your  orders.  I'm  not 
going  to  change  my  mind,  if  that's  what  you're  afraid 
of." 

"  No  sir,"  Berg  apologized,  "  I  didn't  suppose  you 
would,  but  there  might  be  some  question  of  price 
or " 

"  Never  mind  bothering  me  about  prices,"  John 
commanded,  "you  have  complete  discretion.  I'm  not 
coming  to  the  office  after  to-day.  Fm  probably  going 
out  of  town." 

Berg  bowed  and  took  himself  away,  and  the  scene 
was  over. 

198 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

John  felt  he  had  gone  through  it  rather  well,  con- 
sidering all  it  meant  to  him.  He  had  abdicated.  He 
could  no  longer  enforce  his  will  on  any  of  the  in- 
dustries in  the  city  which  lay  stretched  out  before  his 
window.  He  was  a  simple,  hopeless,  broken  creature. 
He  had  done  his  work  and  life  was  through  with  him. 


i 


ni 

It  seemed  to  John  as  though  an  eternity  went  by  in 
the  few  minutes  during  which  he  waited  for  Arthur 
Chase  to  arrive  at  the  office.  It  was  not  mere  impa- 
tience because  he  now  found  himself  without  oc- 
cupation, after  all  these  years  of  feverish  haste. 
What  troubled  him  most  was  the  vision  of  hour  after 
hour  of  restless  inactivity  stretched  before  him.  He 
tried  to  busy  himself  with  a  newspaper,  but  tossed  it 
aside  after  a  hurried  glance.  What  interest  could  he 
feel  in  daily  happenings,  which  could  not  influence  his 
own  actions  and  the  results  of  which  he  should  not 
live  to  see?  He  picked  up  a  law  book,  in  which  he 
had  marked  for  study  a  recent  decision  of  the  Federal 
Supreme  Court.  He  could  not  finish  the  first  page,  al- 
though the  decision  had  modified  surprisingly  the  ex- 
isting law.  Why  should  he  follow  the  drift  of  legal 
opinion  since  he  would  never  apply  it  again  to  the 
problems  he  had  been  accustomed  to  attack  with  such 
energy  and  enthusiasm  ? 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  idly  wondered  how 
Arthur  would  accept  his  tidings.  To  his  amazement, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  Arthur  might  be  secretly  re- 
lieved at  his  disappearance.  He  had  been  a  rather  hard 
task-master  to  his  junior  partner.  The  lazy,  easy- 
going Arthur  would  have  pottered  through  life  with- 

200 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

out  effort  or  result,  had  not  John  prodded  him  unceas- 
ingly. He  had  driven  him  to  directors'  meetings  and 
conferences.  He  had  taught  him  what  he  should  say 
and  what  he  should  do.  He  had  refused  to  permit  him 
to  arrange  his  working  hours  in  the  leisurely  fashion 
he  would  have  enjoyed  if  left  to  his  own  devices.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  had  watched  over  his  welfare  with 
the  most  minute  care.  He  had  invested  Arthur's 
share  of  the  firm's  enormous  earnings  with  the  most 
scrupulous  conservatism.  He  had  never  permitted  him 
to  have  any  financial  hazard  in  the  daring  schemes 
into  which  he,  himself,  plunged  with  apparent  reck- 
lessness. Arthur's  fortune  must  be  secure.  He  con- 
sulted, from  time  to  time,  with  Helen,  his  partner's 
wife,  and  decided  what  proportion  of  Arthur's  income 
must  be  apfplied  to  investment  and  what  might  properly 
be  devoted  to  his  somewhat  ostentatiously  extravagant 
mode  of  living.  It  was  he  who  decided  to  what  schools 
Arthur's  children  should  be  sent,  and  what  colleges 
they  should  be  prepared  to  enter.  When  they  became 
involved  in  childish  scrapes,  it  was  John  who  invari- 
ably came  to  the  rescue.  If  any  man  had  thus  assumed 
control  of  his  life,  John  realized  at  this  moment,  he 
would  have  found  him  intolerable;  but  Arthur  needed 
someone  to  steer  his  course  for  him,  and  John  had 
done  it  well.  He  had  made  a  rich  man  of  him.  He 
would  never  have  amounted  to  anything  if  left  to  his 
own  resources.    John  had  found  him  from  first  to  last 

20I 


THE  CONQUEST 

a  heavy  burden.  Still,  in  this  hour,  when  the  entire 
fabric  of  his  life's  edifice  was  crumbling  before  his 
eyes,  he  found  himself  longing  illogically  for  Arthur's 
coming — hoping  fervently  he  would  be  truly  sorry 
at  the  inevitable  parting.  He  recognized  the  curious 
quality  of  his  frame  of  mind.  He,  the  strong  man,  was 
fixing  his  hopes  upon  the  creature  of  recognized  weak- 
ness; he  who  had  prided  himself  on  a  complete  free- 
dom from  sentimentality  was  suffering  real  suspense, 
lest  his  inferior  might  feel  no  emotion  of  sorrow  at  his 
passing.  But  Arthur  to  him  now  represented  the  last 
tangible  hold  he  retained  on  his  routine  of  living.  If 
Arthur  were  relieved  at  his  emancipation  from  John's 
iron  control,  then  he  might  be  sure  that  in  his  downfall, 
as  in  his  dominance,  he  stood  utterly  alone — outside  of 
the  pale  of  human  fellowship. 

When  Arthur  bustled  into  John's  ofiice,  imaware 
of  the  crisis  which  had  been  encountered  in  his  absence, 
he  was  full  of  contrition  and  apology  for  his  tardiness. 
The  Arthur  Chase  of  this  day  was  undeniably  fat  and 
middle-aged.  The  haste  of  the  past  few  minutes  had 
made  his  breathing  labored  and  his  speech  jerky.  He 
was  a  picture  of  comfortable  good  humor  and  lack  of 
dignity. 

"  Morning,  John !  "  he  puffed.  "  Say,  I'm  mighty 
6orry  if  I  held  you  up.  I  sort  of  overslept  this  morn- 
ing.    Theatre^ — last  night,  you  know.     Supper  after- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

^ard, — Vm  getting  too  old  for  that  sort  of  thing,  I 
suppose.    I'm  pretty  late,  I  know." 

His  eagerness  to  excuse  his  delay  to  his  mentor 
chimed  in  all  too  aptly  with  John's  reflections  about  his 
partner's  subjection.  What  man  well  over  forty,  and 
a  millionaire  in  the  bargain,  would  not  be  glad  to  be 
rid  of  a  master  who  had  taught  him  to  stammer  out 
pleas  for  forgiveness,  like  a  school-boy  coming  late 
to  his  classes  ? 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  John  remarked,  with  a  kind- 
liness which  caused  Arthur  to  look  at  him  with  as- 
tonishment. The  senior  partner  had  been  striving  for 
twenty  years  to  force  the  junior  to  meet  his  appoint- 
ments with  punctuality. 

"  I  met  Judge  Bowen  at  the  play  last  night,"  Arthur 
announced,  getting  his  breath  once  more.  "  He'd  come 
up  from  Annapolis.  He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  about 
your  argument  in  the  Thomdyke  case.  He  said  it  was 
wonderful.     I  reckon  you've  won  it." 

"  Yes,"  John  assented  listlessly.  "  I'm  sure  we  will 
get  a  decision.  That's  not  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about." 

Arthur  did  want  to  talk  of  it,  however;  i^  was  an 
agreeable  subject.  He  had  no  doubt  John's  theme 
would  involve  something  new  and  troublesome.  He 
was  such  a  restless  creature — never  content  to  pause  and 
enjoy  a  victory. 

203 


THE  CONQUEST 

a  heavy  burden.  Still,  in  this  hour,  when  the  entire 
fabric  of  his  life's  edifice  was  crumbling  before  his 
eyes,  he  found  himself  longing  illogically  for  Arthur's 
coming — hoping  fervently  he  would  be  truly  sorry 
at  the  inevitable  parting.  He  recognized  the  curious 
quality  of  his  frame  of  mind.  He,  the  strong  man,  was 
fixing  his  hopes  upon  the  creature  of  recognized  weak- 
ness; he  who  had  prided  himself  on  a  complete  free- 
dom from  sentimentality  was  suffering  real  suspense, 
lest  his  inferior  might  feel  no  emotion  of  sorrow  at  his 
passing.  But  Arthur  to  him  now  represented  the  last 
tangible  hold  he  retained  on  his  routine  of  living.  If 
Arthur  were  relieved  at  his  emancipation  from  John's 
iron  control,  then  he  might  be  sure  that  in  his  downfall, 
as  in  his  dominance,  he  stood  utterly  alone — outside  of 
the  pale  of  human  fellowship. 

When  Arthur  bustled  into  John's  office,  unaware 
of  the  crisis  which  had  been  encountered  in  his  absence, 
he  was  full  of  contrition  and  apology  for  his  tardiness. 
The  Arthur  Chase  of  this  day  was  undeniably  fat  and 
middle-aged.  The  haste  of  the  past  few  minutes  had 
made  his  breathing  labored  and  his  speech  jerky.  He 
was  a  picture  of  comfortable  good  humor  and  lack  of 
dignity. 

"  Morning,  John !  "  he  puffed.  "  Say,  I'm  mighty 
sorry  if  I  held  you  up.  I  sort  of  overslept  this  morn- 
ing.    Theatre — last  night,  you  know.     Supper  after- 

2Q2 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

ward, — I'm  getting  too  old  for  that  sort  of  thing,  I 
suppose.    I'm  pretty  late,  I  know." 

His  eagerness  to  excuse  his  delay  to  his  mentor 
chimed  in  all  too  aptly  with  John's  reflections  about  his 
partner's  subjection.  What  man  well  over  forty,  and 
a  millionaire  in  the  bargain,  would  not  be  glad  to  be 
rid  of  a  master  who  had  taught  him  to  stammer  out 
pleas  for  forgiveness,  like  a  school-boy  coming  late 
to  his  classes  ? 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  John  remarked,  with  a  kind- 
liness which  caused  Arthur  to  look  at  him  with  as- 
tonishment. The  senior  partner  had  been  striving  for 
twenty  years  to  force  the  junior  to  meet  his  appoint- 
ments with  punctuality. 

"  I  met  Judge  Bowen  at  the  play  last  night,"  Arthur 
announced,  getting  his  breath  once  more.  "  He'd  come 
up  from  Annapolis.  He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  about 
your  argument  in  the  Thomdyke  case.  He  said  it  was 
wonderful.     I  reckon  you've  won  it." 

"  Yes,"  John  assented  listlessly.  "  I'm  sure  we  will 
get  a  decision.  That's  not  what  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about." 

Arthur  did  want  to  talk  of  it,  however;  ic  was  an 
agreeable  subject.  He  had  no  doubt  John's  theme 
would  involve  something  new  and  troublesome.  He 
was  such  a  restless  creature — never  content  to  pause  and 
enjoy  a  victory. 

203 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  But  there'll  be  a  whooping  big  fee  in  it,  won't 
there?" 

"  Yes,  you  old  spendthrift;  can't  you  think  of  any- 
thing but  money?"  John  answered,  with  a  smile  of 
tolerance  so  wistful,  that  even  the  unobservant  Arthur 
noticed  itg  unusual  sweetness  and  the  drawn  lines  of 
the  face  it  lighted  up.  John  was  never  to  bully  and 
coddle  this  big  childlike  man  after  to-day,  and  he  had 
a  swift  realization  of  how  much  he  would  miss  his 
trustful,  incompetent  reliance  upon  him. 

But  all  Arthur  recognized  was  the  certainty  of 
John's  white  and  haggard  face,  and  he  suddenly  be- 
gan to  talk  of  something  besides  money. 

"  See  here,  John,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  suppose  you 
know  it,  but  you  look  like  the  devil!  You've  been 
working  yourself  to  death.  It's  silly  for  a  man  worth 
as  much  money  as  you  are.  If  you  don't  take  care  of 
yourself,  how  are  you  ever  to  get  any  enjoyment  out 
of  it,  after  all  your  grubbing?  What's  the  good  of  it 
to  you,  anyhow  ?    What  you  need  is  a  vacation." 

"  That's  what  I  called  you  in  to  discuss,"  John  re- 
plied, in  a  voice  out  of  which,  try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  entirely  rule  all  emotion.  **  I  hope  you'll 
be  able  to  take  what  I  tell  you  without  any  heroics." 
(John  was  certainly  not  sure  the  hope  he  expressed 
was  sincere,  but  for  the  minute  he  was  concerned  en- 
tirely with  the  necessity  for  playing  at  his  role  of 
leadership  to  the  end. )   "I  find  I  must  have  a  vacation 

204 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

in  a  worse  sense  than  you  meant.  I'm  sick — done  for, 
in  fact.    You'll  have  to  get  along  without  me." 

John's  hope  that  Arthur  might  not  be  entirely  un- 
concerned was  more  than  realized.  He  seemed  com- 
pletely amazed  at  the  serious  hopelessness  of  John, 
whom  he  had  seen  all  these  years  meet  with  quiet  con- 
fidence every  emergency  which  had  crossed  his  path. 
Then  Arthur  remembered  his  own  dejection  whenever 
he  was  even  slightly  indisposed,  and  attempted  the 
consolation  he  was  accustomed  to  demand  on  such 
occasions. 

"  Oh  come  now,  John,  you  musn't  let  yourself  grow 
grumpy  just  because  you're  a  bit  off  color.  You  feel 
so  blue  because  you  never  knew  what  it  was  to  be  sick 
before.  A  few  weeks  of  rest  will  send  you  back  here 
as  fit  as  a  fiddle.  You  forget  both  of  us  are  getting 
along  in  life.  We've  got  to  expect  a  little  upset  now 
and  then." 

John  shook  his  head.  "  This  isn't  a  little  upset," 
he  informed  Arthur  gravely.  "  I've  got  to  quit  work 
to-day  and  never  go  back  to  it  again.  I  shan't  last 
much  longer.  I'm  not  sure  I  want  to.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  a  disease  called  angina f  That's  what's  the 
matter  with  me." 

Of  the  two,  Arthur  was  certainly  the  more  deeply 
horrified.  In  the  intense  self-pity  which  John  felt  as 
he  told  of  the  sudden  blow  which  had  fallen  upon  him, 

20S 


THE  CONQUEST 

he  found  time  for  an  enormous  sense  of  relief  at  the 
certainty  that  somebody  cared. 

Arthur  however,  shaken  as  he  was,  was  still  in- 
credulous. It  was  impossible !  It  was  John  who  spoke 
of  his  own  death — ^John,  with  whom  it  seemed  ridicu- 
lously incongruous  to  associate  weakness  or  disease. 

"  Nonsense/'  he  protested,  with  an  effort  at  hearty 
unconcern.  "  You  think  you  know  everything  about 
medicine  because  you  can  always  manage  to  trip  up  a 
medical  witness.  IVe  sent  my  machine  home,  but 
yours  is  still  down-stairs.  I  noticed  it  when  I  came  in. 
You  get  right  into  it  with  me  and  I'll  take  you  to  a 
doctor.    We'll  go  to  the  best — to  Deeming." 

"  I've  just  come  from  there,"  John  replied,  "  that's 
how  I  know." 

Arthur's  consternation  was  complete.  He  seemed 
at  a  loss  to  understand. 

At  last  he  exclaimed  explosively :  "  He  didn't  tell 
you  that !  Not  just  as  you've  put  it !  He  couldn't  have 
been  so  brutal !  "    John  made  a  gesture  of  dissent. 

"It  wasn't  his  fault,"  he  answered.  "  He  did  his 
best  to  lie  to  me.  I  wouldn't  let  him.  I  had  to  know 
the  truth  and  I  wrung  it  from  him." 

The  two  sat  in  silence.  Arthur's  eyes  had  a  sus- 
picious moisture,  but  he  tried  hard  to  avoid  any  dis- 
play of  feeling.  He  was  sure  John  wouldn't  like  him 
to  be  weak — ^poor  John,  who  was  behaving  so  splen- 
didly himself. 

206 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

When  he  was  sure  he  could  talk  without  a  quiver 
in  his  voice,  he  could  think  of  no  words  really  adequate. 
Idle  lamentations  had  no  place  in  dealing  with  John, 
and  yet  here  was  a  situation  before  which  his  partner 
was  as  powerless  as  himself. 

Finally  he  murmured,  when  the  tense  silence  had 
become  unbearably  oppressive,  "  I  don't  know  what 
to  say  to  you,  John.  It's  something  I  can't  seem  to 
grasp,  that's  all.  Helen  will  be  heart-broken.  I  don't 
see  how  we're  going  to  get  along  without  you.  I  almost 
wish  it  had  been  myself  instead.  Nobody  would  have 
found  it  hard  to  manage  without  me.  I  never  would 
have  been  of  any  use  to  anyone,  if  you  hadn't  nursed 

me  along  all  these  years.     I "     But  here  he  broke 

down  imder  the  memory  of  their  intimate  comradeship 
of  a  score  of  years,  now  suddenly  to  be  snapped. 

"  You'd  have  been  a  poor  man,  if  you  hadn't  known 
me,  but  a  happier  one,  maybe,"  John's  mood  of  self- 
searching  compelled  him  to  confess.  "  I've  forced  you 
to  do  a  host  of  things  you  weren't  fit  for.  I'm  afraid 
I've  driven  you  pretty  hard  sometimes,  Arthur." 

"  Don't,"  his  partner  choked.  He  was  all  too 
keenly  conscious  of  his  frequent  secret  impulse  to  rebel 
— his  hours  of  temptation,  after  John  had  helped  him 
to  make  all  the  money  he  could  ever  need,  to  desert 
this  exacting  master,  who  was  never  ready  to  rest. 
He  would  then  have  been  free  to  enjoy  his  life  in  his 
own  idle  fashion ;  but  now  that  liberty  had  come  to  him 

207, 


THE  CONQUEST 

without  warning  and  in  such  tragic  guise,  his  thought 
was  only  of  John's  helpfulness,  his  watchfulness  and 
his  patience  with  such  a  blunderer  as  himself. 

"  You're  right,"  John  announced,  sternly  taking 
himself  in  hand.  "  We've  no  business  to  get  maudlin 
about  this  thing.  Everybody  has  to  die  some  time. 
There's  no  reason  why  I  should  behave  as  though  I 
were  the  first  man  who  ever  had  to  go  through  with  the 
job.  You  musn't  humor  me  in  it.  What  I  really 
wanted  was  to  talk  to  you  about  the  office." 

Arthur  made  a  gesture  of  despair.  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  the  office,"  he  groaned.  "  I  can't 
take  charge  of  it.  I'll  never  be  able  to  get  along  with- 
out you." 

"  No,"  John  conceded,  "  you  can't  run  it  alone.  Yet 
it  would  be  a  pity  to  lock  the  doors  and  throw  away 
our  clientele.  Good  Lord,  how  we  have  worked  to 
build  up  this  practice !  "  He  let  a  sigh  escape  him, 
but  conquered  the  momentary  vain  regret  and  went  on 
resolutely : 

"  I've  been  thinking  it  out  for  you.  You've  got  to 
get  a  new  partner — someone  to  take  my  place.  None 
of  the  young  chaps  in  the  office  will  do.  They  have 
no  initiative — no  originality.  It's  my  fault,  I'm  afraid. 
I've  drilled  them  to  obey  my  orders  too  well.  I'm 
sorry  for  it  now,  since  I've  come  to  the  end  of  things, 
but  I  couldn't  help  it.  That's  the  way  I  was  made. 
The  people  who  work  with  me  have  to  learn  to  do 

208 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

things  my  way! — I  mean  they  did  have  to/'  he  cor- 
rected himself  miserably. 

"  Well/'  he  continued,  taking  up  his  task  again, 
"  that  means  you  have  to  find  someone  outside  of  our 
own  force,  and  I've  chosen  the  very  man  for  you.  It's 
young  Gushing/' 

"  Gushing,"  Arthur  exclaimed,  "  to  take  your  place! 
Why  he's  only  a  boy/' 

"  He's  nearly  thirty,  Arthur,"  John  argued  pa- 
tiently. "  We  were  that  age,  or  a  bit  younger,  when 
we  began  to  strike  our  gait — just  about  thirty/' 

He  paused  for  an  instant  and  let  the  memories  of 
the  past  surge  through  his  mind.  Then  he  returned 
once  more  to  the  present  and  its  need. 

"  I've  been  watching  his  work.  He's  the  most 
promising  of  them  all.  He  has  a  great  future.  It 
sounds  silly  and  vain,  I  know,  but  his  methods  re- 
mind me  of  the  way  I  used  to  try  cases  when  I  was  his 
age.  You  must  get  hold  of  him  to-day,  before  he 
learns  from  anyone  else  what's  happened  to  me.  Make 
the  best  bargain  you  can  with  him.  It's  a  splendid 
chance  for  him.  He'll  jump  at  it.  He  ought  to  ac- 
cept a  moderate  share  of  the  profits  at  the  beginning. 
But  get  him,  no  matter  what  his  terms  are.  Make  him 
start  in  here  at  once.  He  must  take  complete  command. 
He  can  have  this  room. 

"  You  know,"  John  concluded,  almost  shame- 
facedly, "  I'd  see  him  myself  and  make  terms  with  him, 

14  ^ 


THE  CONQUEST 

but  Deeming  says  I  must  try  to  avoid  any  mental  strain, 
and  it  would  tear  me  to  shreds  to  sit  here  and  start 
him  in  to  do  my  work.  You  see  I'm  not  a  bit  of  good 
any  more.    Fm  a  different  man  since  yesterday." 

Arthur  reached  out  and  grasped  John's  hand  and 
wrung  it  hard. 

"  Why  need  we  do  this  at  all,  John?  "  he  inquired. 
"  Why  can't  you  remain  the  head  of  the  firm  whether 
you  work  or  not.  It's  your  practice,  you  know.  You 
created  it.  You  might  as  well  keep  on  getting  your 
share  of  the  profits.  It  shall  be  '  Howard,  Chase  & 
Cushing'." 

But  his  masterful  partner,  even  in  his  hour  of  af- 
fliction, would  not  yield  to  his  own  longing.  "  No," 
was  his  verdict,  "  I  don't  want  to  be  linked  with  an 
enterprise  whose  policy  I  can't  direct.  It  shall  be 
'Chase  &  Cushing'."  He  winced  at  the  thought,  but 
he  showed  no  sign  of  indecision.  He  even  steeled 
himself  to  a  bitter  lightness.  "  It  could  only  be  for  a 
little  while  anyhow.  It  wouldn't  be  worth  while  hav- 
ing the  name  changed  twice  on  all  the  office  stationery. 
You  forget  I  have  an  urgent  engagement  in  another 
world." 

"  Don't  talk  that  way,  John !  "  Arthur  murmured 
in  genuine  distress  at  his  partner's  brutal  scourging  of 
himself. 

"  I  won't  then,  if  it  shocks  you,"  John  said,  "  but 
we  might  as  well  face  the  facts.    Let's  get  ahead  with 

2ia 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

our  plans.  Now  remember  this,  Arthur,  and  never 
forget  it :  This  office  is  to  do  no  more  finance.  Give 
Gushing  a  free  hand  in  everything  else,  but  be  firm 
there.  It's  a  dangerous  game.  I  knew  how  to  play  it. 
This  boy  may  not.  You  never  did.  You've  made  your 
pile  now  and  you  have  nothing  to  gain  by  risking  one 
dollar  of  it.  The  profits  here  won't  be  what  they  used 
to  be,  but  they'll  be  handsome  enough.  Stick  to  legal 
work.     Nothing  else.     Is  it  a  promise?" 

"  Of  course,"  Arthur  assented  readily.  "  What- 
ever you  think  best,  John.  It's  like  you  to  bother  about 
me  at  a  time  like  this,  anyhow." 

John  waved  his  thanks  aside.  Yesterday,  he 
would  have  told  himself  they  were  well  merited.  To- 
day, somehow,  all  his  ideas  of  human  values  were  upset. 

"  That's  about  all  then,"  he  announced.  "  Such 
work  as  I've  started,  which  can't  be  dropped.  Gushing 
must  deal  with  as  best  he  can.  Let  him  use  his  own 
discretion.  I've  ordered  Berg  to  sell  all  my  individual 
stock  holdings.  You'd  better  resign  as  director  from 
all  the  Boards  where  you  represented  me.  Have  the 
bookkeeper  strike  a  balance  to-day  and  send  me  a 
check  for  whatever  stands  to  my  credit.  Then  you  and 
Gushing  can  begin  to-morrow  with  a  clean  slate. 
As  for  my  share  of  the  fees  which  have  been  earned 
up  to  date,  but  which  have  not  yet  been  paid — par- 
ticularly the  Thorndyke  fee — you  can  account  to  me 
whenever  you  get  ready.    Let  one  of  the  clerks  clean 

211 


THE  CONQUEST 

out  my  desk  and  this  room,  and  send  the  stuff  out  to 
my  house." 

He  seemed  to  feel  there  was  no  more  to  be  said,  but 
Arthur  was  of  a  different  mind. 

"YouVe  talked  of  nothing  but  what  I  ought  to 
do,"  he  urged.  "  You  haven't  seemed  to  think  of  what 
Helen  or  I  might  do  for  you." 

John  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "  What 
does  one  do  for  a  man  about  to  die?  My  personal 
affairs  are  in  order ;  my  will  is  in  the  vault  at  the  Atlan- 
tic Trust  &  Deposit  Company.  Berg  is  buying  me  some 
more  bonds,  which  can  be  put  with  the  others.  There's 
nothing  to  be  done  that  I  can  think  of;  if  anything  oc- 
curs to  me,  I'll  telephone  you." 

It  seemed  to  hurt  Arthur  to  find  John  meeting  his 
genuine  emotion  with  such  an  armor  of  assumed  cyni- 
cism. John  noticed  his  pathetic,  impotent  desire  to  be 
helpful  and  repented  of  his  words  and  manner. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  can't  talk  and  behave  the  way  the 
holy  men  in  the  books  do,"  was  his  apology.  ''  Every- 
thing's twisted  to  me  this  morning.  The  things  I 
thought  important  yesterday  seem  silly  to-day.  My 
chief  feeling  is  one  of  complete  disgust  with  every- 
thing. That's  what  makes  me  seem  so  ungracious,  I 
suppose,  but  if  it  does  you  any  good  to  know  it,  you're 
the  only  thing  in  the  world  I  feel  human  about.  You 
sort  of  take  away  the  sense  of  utter  loneliness.  Don't 
mind  what  I  say." 

212 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

It  wasn't  easy  for  John  to  make  this  confession. 
He  did  it  because  he  was  sure  it  would  please  Arthur 
to  be  taken  somewhat  behind  the  veil  of  his  misery,  and 
he  was  amazed  to  discover  how  anxious  he  was  to 
leave  tender  memories  in  the  heart  of  this  big,  incom- 
petent Arthur,  whose  value  had  seemed  slight  to  him 
when  they  were  working  side  by  side. 

*'  John,"  Arthur  suggested,  encouraged  by  his  part- 
ner's softened  attitude,  "  I've  a  plan  for  you.  Hilda's 
away.  There's  no  one  at  your  home  but  the  servants. 
You  can  come  out  to  us  this  morning  and  stay  there. 
Helen  and  the  kids  would  adore  it.  They'll  nurse  you 
and  amuse  you  and  keep  you  from  getting  blue.  After 
a  few  weeks,  you  won't  mind  one  bit  not  being  able  to 
work.  You'll  get  to  be  a  confirmed  loafer  like  me, 
and  I'll  come  home  early  in  the  afternoons  and  sit  out 
on  the  porch  with  you  and  remind  you  of  the  old  days, 
when  you  used  to  pitch  into  Helen  and  myself  for 
wanting  new  babies,  when  you  needed  the  money  for 
business.  We'll  fight  all  our  old  fights  over  again  and 
enjoy  them  more  than  we  did  the  first  time.  By  and  by 
you'll  stop  fretting  and  take  good  care  of  yourself 
(Helen  will  make  you!)  and  you  can  live  until  you're 
eighty  without  an  ache  or  a  pain." 

John  smiled  gently  at  his  enthusiasm.  Arthur  really 
did  care  for  him.  There  was  something  beautiful 
about  it.  Could  such  feelings  only  exist  in  weak  men 
like  this  one?     Wasn't  this  simple  kindliness  an  in- 

213 


THE  CONQUEST 

tegral  part  of  inefficiency  itself?  At  any  rate,  it  was 
very  grateful  to  him  as  he  stood  in  the  shadow  of  im- 
pending death. 

Very  reluctantly  then,  he  pushed  Arthur's  sugges- 
tion from  him. 

"  It's  an  enticing  picture  you  paint,  old  chap/*  he 
replied,  "  but  I  can't  do  it.  I'd  only  be  a  horror  to 
you  and  Helen  and  myself.  You  know  what  I'm 
like.  I  have  to  fight  things  out  alone.  I'll  have  to  do 
it  with  this,  too.  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  people  about 
it — not  even  to  you  and  Helen.  I've  had  a  spasm  of 
garrulity  this  morning.  It  will  be  gone  to-morrow. 
I'll  be  a  glum,  forbidding  iceberg.  You'd  better  get 
out  of  my  way." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  then  ?  "  Arthur  de- 
manded, displaying  a  genuine  disappointment,  but 
seeming  to  recognize  from  long  experience  the  un- 
yielding quality  of  his  colleague's  decisions. 

"  I'm  not  sure,  Arthur,"  he  reflected  slowly. 
"  Deeming  has  ordered  me  to  join  Hilda  at  Palm  Beach. 
It  was  his  idea  to  get  me  decently  out  of  the  way.  I 
guess  I'll  go.  One  feels  it's  his  legitimate  privilege  to 
make  his  own  wife  miserable." 

Arthur  had  realized  vaguely  for  a  long  time  a 
sense  of  something  amiss  in  John's  relations  to  his 
wife.  He  wanted  very  much  to  make  sure  someone 
would  take  charge  of  his  stricken  friend  and  coddle 
him  and  try  to  lift  the  gloom  of  his  certain  fate  from 

ii4 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

him.  He  felt  sure  Hilda  was  not  the  person  for  the 
task,  but  he  hardly  knew  how  to  urge  John  not  to  seek 
out  his  own  wife  at  a  time  of  calamity.  '*  If  John  could 
only  bring  himself  to  make  an  appeal  to  Hilda*s  sym- 
pathy," he  thought,  but  John  would  never  do  it !  Per- 
haps  

His  thought  broke  into  a  spoken  suggestion. 
"Would  you  let  me  write  to  Hilda?  It  might  make 
it  easier  for  both  of  you  if  you  don't  have  to  tell  her 
yourself."  He  could  write  such  a  letter  as  would 
touch  Hilda's  heart  and  break  down  the  reserve  be- 
tween these  two.  Hilda  was  such  a  good  sort.  Arthur 
could  never  understand  why  she  and  John  couldn't 
be  comfortable  and  *'  chummy  "  like  Helen  and  himself. 
But  then  John,  wonderful  as  he  was,  was  hardly  a 
comfortable  or  *'  chummy  "  man. 

John,  however,  put  a  flat  veto  on  Arthur's  well- 
meant  interference.  If  Hilda  had  not  been  able  to  ad- 
just herself  to  him  during  all  these  years,  she  wasn't  to 
be  begged  to  do  it  out  of  pity.  How  he  did  wince  at 
the  idea  of  pity !  It  was  all  right  for  Arthur  to  see  how 
stricken  he  was.  Arthur  had  some  cause  for  regret 
on  his  own  account.  To  lose  such  a  partner  as  John 
Howard  was  a  signal  business  disaster,  if  it  was  nothing 
more.    But  the  others — it  was  unbearable ! 

"  No,"  he  insisted,  once  more  dominant  in  his  own 
affairs,  if  no  longer  in  the  field  of  commerce,  "  don't 
you  send  one  hne  to  Hilda !    Perhaps  I  shan't  tell  her 

215 


THE  CONQUEST 

any  of  the  details  at  all.  It  won't  do  any  good  to  har- 
row her.  I'll  think  things  out  for  myself.  I'll  surely 
see  you  again  before  I  go.  I'll  drive  out  to  your  house 
and  say  good-bye.  And  now  you'd  better  get  back  to 
your  work.  You  want  to  get  hold  of  Gushing  im- 
mediately. Don't  bother  about  me.  I'll  get  out  of  here 
in  a  few  minutes  and  I'm  not  coming  back.  I'll  leave 
my  keys  on  my  desk.  Say  good-bye  for  me  to  every- 
one in  the  office  after  I'm  gone.  I  don't  want  them  to 
know  until  then.    I  want  to  get  out  quietly." 

Both  men  rose  and  clasped  hands  again  silently, 
each  overwhelmed  by  a  flood  of  memories.  Then 
swiftly,  and  without  more  words,  Arthur  obeyed  John's 
wish,  and  left  him  to  spend  his  last  minutes  as  the 
senior  partner,  alone. 

But  he  was  not  destined  to  remain  uninterrupted. 
Arthur  had  scarcely  gone,  when  the  door  was  timidly 
opened  and  the  managing  clerk  appeared.  John 
frowned  at  him  forbiddingly.  "  I  thought  I  gave 
orders  I  would  see  no  one,"  he  said  sternly. 

"  Yes  sir,"  Cline  admitted  abjectly.  "  But  there's 
a  lady  who's  been  asking  for  you.  She  won't  go  away. 
She  was  here  day  before  yesterday,  when  you  were  at 
the  Atlantic  Trust  meeting,  and  yesterday  when  you 
were  in  Annapolis.  I  told  her  she  couldn't  see  you  to- 
day. She  insisted  if  you  saw  her  card,  you'd  give  her 
a  few  minutes.    I  thought  I  ought  to  show  it  to  you." 

John  reached  out  his  hand.  Why  should  he  waste 
216 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

his  energy  disciplining  Cline,  who  would  receive  no 
more  commands  from  him?  And  besides,  now  that 
he  had  nothing  but  blankness  to  look  forward  toward, 
he  was  filled  with  a  mild  curiosity  to  know  who  this 
insistent  visitor  might  be. 

"  Let's  see  her  name,"  he  ordered,  more  mildly 
than  Cline  had  permitted  himself  to  hope. 

He  laid  the  card  on  the  desk  before  him  and  stared 
incredulously  at  the  letters  which  danced  unsteadily 
before  his  bewildered  eyes.  It  was  a  tiny  card  and  it 
read  simply: 

Margaret  Gilmor,  M.D. 

"  Let  her  come  in,"  he  directed  huskily.  As  the 
clerk  left  the  room,  John's  hand  stole  instinctively  to 
his  vest  pocket  and  clutched  there  a  little  glass  bead, 
filled  with  a  pale  yellow  fluid.  He  made  ready  to 
crush  it,  should  his  need  grow  greater. 


.IV 

Both  John  and  Margaret,  as  they  stood  facing 
each  other  across  his  desk,  in  the  instant  before  they 
felt  constrained  to  lapse  into  the  commonplaces  of 
conventional  speech,  thought  with  troubled  memories 
of  their  last  meeting.  Each  peered  hungrily  into  the 
other's  eyes,  in  the  effort  to  find  how  much  of  the  youth- 
filled  companion  of  that  former  day  had  survived  the 
long  years  of  strain  and  disillusionment.  To  John  it 
seemed  incredible  how  few  ravages  age  had  made 
upon  Margaret.  Her  hair,  the  beautiful  contour  of  her 
face,  the  slender  grace  of  her  figure — all  these  showed 
little  trace  of  her  two-score  years.  Yet,  a  closer  scru- 
tiny disclosed  ample  evidence  proving  she  had  not 
spared  herself.  Here  and  there  a  tell-tale  line  in  her 
forehead,  or  about  the  mouth,  recorded  hours  of  work 
and  studious  effort.  She  carried  herself  with  that 
self-possession  and  confidence  in  her  strength  and  dis- 
cernment, which  marks  the  woman  who  has  lived  many 
years  in  a  stormy  world.  Her  eyes  looked  out  on  life 
with  the  expression  of  one  who  has  seen  much  of  pain 
and  unhappiness,  and  has  done  her  share  in  coping  with 
them.  They  were  no  longer  the  trustful,  unsuspect- 
ing eyes  John  remembered,  but  were  filled  instead  with 
sympathy  and  knowledge.  One  would  unhesitatingly 
have  guessed  her  age,  but  could  hardly  have  spoken 

218 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

of  her  without  adding  that  in  spite  of  her  forty  years, 
she  was  strikingly  handsome — perhaps  all  the  more  so 
because  it  was  vividly  apparent  with  how  much  vigor 
she  had  lived. 

So  this  was  Margaret !  She  had  come  back  to  him 
now  that  he  was  about  to  die !  She  had  lived  her  own 
life  for  twenty-one  years.  How  could  he  know  what 
it  had  made  of  her?  Yet  this  was  the  woman  whom 
he  had  taught  to  love  him ;  who  had  been  ready  to  let 
him  lead  her  wherever  he  would ;  who  would,  even  now, 
have  been  the  mother  of  his  sons,  if  he  had  not  cast  her 
aside  in  his  upward  flight !  He  had  never  been  able  to 
banish  her  from  his  memory.  He  had  never  wanted 
to.  He  had  idealized  her — loved  in  an  indefinite  boy- 
ish fashion  to  dream  of  her  as  the  embodiment  of  all 
a  woman's  charms  and  virtues.  In  his  thoughts  she 
had  remained  a  girl  of  nineteen.  And  now,  on  this 
day  of  the  ending  of  all  things,  she  had  appeared  once 
more  with  her  own  mysterious  burden  of  experience, 
and  he  could  not  even  guess  what  manner  of  woman 
she  had  become ! 

When  she  spoke,  he  started.  It  seemed  so  strange 
to  hear  those  tones  again !  In  sudden  recollection,  he 
seemed  to  see  the  tawdry  little  dining-room  of  the  old 
boarding  house,  with  its  glowing  coal  stove.  He  could 
actually  smell  the  faint  distasteful  odor  of  the  warmed- 
over  supper.  He  could  hear  the  tinkle  of  Margaret's 
teacups.     Then  the  mirage  passed,  and  as  before  he 

219 


THE  CONQUEST 

was  standing  courteously  in  the  spacious  office  (which 
would  be  Cushing's  to-morrow)  Hstening  attentively  to 
this  distinguished-looking,  middle-aged  woman. 

"  You're  not  exactly  an  approachable  man,  Mr. 
Howard,  are  you?  "  she  began  lightly. 

Mr.  Howard!  Could  it  be  that  her  memories  of 
him  had  grown  faint,  or  was  she  still  determined, 
after  twenty-one  years,  to  give  no  sign  of  the  hu- 
miliation he  had  inflicted  upon  her? 

"If  you  had  written,  or  let  me  know  in  some  way, 
who  it  was  who  wanted  to  talk  with  me,  you  know 
I'd  have  been  only  too  eager  to  see  you,"  he  assured 
her,  waving  her  to  a  seat. 

"  How  could  I  know  you'd  rememl^er  who  Mar- 
garet Gilmor  was?"  she  asked  smilingly.  "I  have 
heard  every  great  man  is  besieged  by  a  host  of  men 
and  women  who  claim  to  remember  him  in  the  days 
when  he  was  as  unimportant  as  themselves.*' 

His  piercing  glance  was  directed  straight  at  her 
eyes.  Why  should  she  want  to  play  at  cross  purposes 
with  him  ? 

"  You  must  have  known  very  well,"  he  remarked 
gravely,  "  how  impossible  it  was  that  I  should  ever 
have  forgotten  you."  The  color  rose  to  her  cheeks, 
but  she  seemed  determined  to  preserve  her  attitude  of 
pleasant  impersonality. 

"  Vm  glad  I  haven't  altogether  passed  out  of  your 
memory,"  she  went  on.     "  I  shan't  feel  so  prcsump- 

220 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

tuous  in  what  I'm  going  to  ask.  Under  any  circum- 
stances, you're  sure  to  decide  I've  become  a  trouble- 
some, meddlesome  creature."  He  made  a  gesture  of 
dissent,  but  she  continued  in  more  serious  tones. 
"  You're  not  interested  in  the  men  and  women  in  whose 
name  IVe  come  to  appeal  to  you.  You're  probably 
even  prejudiced  against  them.  If  you're  going  to  do 
what  I  ask,  it  must  be  simply  because  you  want  to  be 
kind  to  me." 

"  I  had  hoped,"  he  responded  with  unfeigned  dis- 
appointment, "  you  were  about  to  give  me  an  oppor- 
tmiity  to  serve  you.  I'm  sorry  you're  here  merely  to 
plead  the  cause  of  somebody  else." 

Unconsciously  she  assumed  a  more  rigid  attitude, 
and  a  chill  might  have  been  detected  in  her  voice. 

"  If  you  remember  me  at  all,"  she  retorted,  *'  you 
must  have  known  I  should  never  have  intruded  myself 
upon  you  for  any  purpose  which  concerned  myself 
alone."  It  seemed  to  occur  to  her  that  this  was  not 
the  most  tactful  prelude  to  a  request  for  a  favor  of 
some  magnitude.  She  would  have  softened  the  sen- 
tence she  had  used,  if  she  could  have  brought  herself 
to  do  so,  but  after  all,  she  had  said  nothing  she  could 
retract.  John  was  looking  upon  the  face  of  the  same 
woman  who  had  been  too  proud  a  score  of  years  before, 
to  gain  by  compassion  what  love  had  been  too  weak 
to  give.     But  if  she  could  not  unsay  her  words,  she 

221 


THE  CONQUEST 

could,  at  least,  explain  her  mission,  and  this  she  hast- 
ened to  do : 

"  You  see,  sometimes  there  are  things  I  can  do  for 
others,  I  wouldn't  do  for  myself.  I  came  to  believe 
you,  and  nobody  but  you,  could  save  hundreds  of 
people  from  a  great  unhappiness.  I  didn't  believe  you'd 
listen  with  much  patience  to  anyone  except  myself. 
When  I  was  sure  of  that,  I  became  sure  I  had  no 
right  to  throw  away  the  one  chance  of  all  these  men 
and  women  because  of  any  personal  hesitancy  on  my 
part.  It  seemed  almost  providential  that  I  had  once 
known  you.    I  had  to  come." 

She  seemed  ablaze  with  earnestness.  As  he 
noted  each  token  of  her  enthusiasm,  he,  with  the  vision 
of  death  before  his  eyes,  wondered  what  phase  of 
petty  human  activity  could  really  be  important  enough 
to  move  anyone  to  such  interest.  Yet  it  was  her  hu- 
man emotion  which  he  found  so  attractive.  Surely,  it 
was  all  a  paradox. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  informed  her,  with  the  same  deep 
gravity  as  before,  "  you  found  it  distasteful  to  appeal 
;to  me.  I  should  like,  if  I  knew  how,  to  remove  that 
feeling.     I  might " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  smiling  return  of  her 
former  manner  of  pleasant  impersonal  ease. 

**  Please  don't  mind  my  silly  words.  I'm  a  poor  ad- 
vocate, but  Vm  the  only  one  the  people  who  sent  me 
have.    You're  an  important  man  and  I  oughtn't  let  you 

222 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

waste  your  time  talking  of  the  unimportant  messenger, 
instead  of  the  message." 

Behind  her  smile  there  was  plainly  apparent  a  res- 
olute intention  not  to  give  John  Howard  an  opportu- 
nity to  talk  to  her  about  her  own  life.  He  recognized 
her  meaning  and  realized  it  must  be  respected,  at  least 
for  the  present.  After  he  had  given  her  what  she 
wanted — ^(it  couldn't  be  anything  he  was  unable  to 
grant) — she  might  be  more  gracious.  Probably  she 
wanted  money  for  some  foolish  scheme  to  encourage 
inefficients.  Well,  she  should  have  it — enough  of  it  to 
take  her  breath  away.    Perhaps  then  she  would  unbend. 

"  You  give  me  no  choice,"  he  said,  "  but  to  follow 
your  commands.  In  what  way  can  I  serve  your  friends  ? 
Who  are  these  people  of  whom  you  speak? " 

"  They're  my  neighbors  and  my  patients,"  she  an- 
nouncd  eagerly.  "  For  six  years  I've  chosen  to  live 
and  to  practice  in  East  Baltimore  instead  of  among  the 
people  in  your  class.  The  men  and  women  down  there 
have  grown  fond  of  me.  I've  tried  to  help  them  when 
they  were  sick  and  in  trouble,  and  they're  in  ghastly 
trouble  now.  Surely,  in  all  these  months  you  must  have 
heard  or  read  something  about  the  garment-workers' 
lock-out." 

His  brow  grew  ruffled.  He  did  not  approve  of 
strikes  or  strikers.  They  were  always  troubling  the 
waters  of  commerce.  They  made  for  a  waste  of 
effort.    So  Margaret  was  allowing  herself  to  be  drawn 

223 


THE.  CONQUEST 

by  her  sentimentality  into  these  foolish  and  vulgar 
broils !  His  boyish  diagnosis  had  not,  after  all,  been  an 
error. 

She  noticed  his  disapproval  with  some  concern. 
"  You're  not  connected  with  the  clothing  industry,  are 
you  ?  "  she  demanded  breathlessly. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "  I  was  until  a  few  years  ago. 
Then  I  parted  with  my  holdings,  and  at  the  same  time 
ceased  to  be  counsel  for  any  of  the  garment  making 
companies." 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed  hopefully,  "  you  didn't  ap- 
prove of  their  methods!    That  was  the  reason?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  stated,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 
He  wasn't  going  to  make  pretences  to  her.  "  I  origi- 
nated many  of  their  methods.  I  directed  their  poli- 
cies. The  business  came  to  demand  too  much  time  and 
thought  for  the  amount  of  profit  involved.  I  found 
an  opportunity  to  dispose  of  my  interests  at  a  sub- 
stantial figure,  and  I  took  advantage  of  it." 

She  seemed  deeply  distressed  by  his  answer. 

"  I  suppose  there's  no  use  in  my  going  on  with  my 
story  then,"  she  concluded.  "  If  you  used  to  be  as- 
sociated with  the  employers,  you  couldn't  help  the 
workers  now." 

Her  deduction  impressed  him  as  being  girlish — 
almost  childish — in  its  naivete.  "  Why  not?  "  he  asked. 
"  My  connection  with  these  corporations  is  a  thing  of 
the  past    I  can't  pretend  to  any  great  sympathy  for 

224 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

your  proteges,  but  if  it  will  be  pleasing  to  you,  there's 
no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  do  whatever  you  want.  I 
presume  they  want  a  contribution  to  the  Union's  treas- 
ury.    It's  pretty  empty,  I  imagine,  by  this  time." 

The  look  she  flashed  on  him  should  have  left  him 
no  doubt  as  to  the  infinite  distance  they  had  drifted 
apart.  All  the  scorn  of  the  quixotic  idealist  for  the 
practical  materialist  was  expressed  in  her  eyes  and 
lips.  It  cost  her  a  real  effort  to  suppress  her  contempt 
for  a  state  of  mind  and  feelings  which  could  measure 
all  things  in  terms  of  dollars.  But  she  was  here  in  the 
cause  of  many  hopeless  men.  John  Howard  was  dis- 
posed to  be  kind ;  she  must  not  throw  away  her  precious 
opportunity. 

"  No,"  she  answered  slowly,  "  I  haven't  come  for 
money.  The  treasury  is  empty.  The  men  and  women 
and  their  babies  go  hungry.  Every  day  pathetic  chil- 
dren are  brought  to  my  office.  Their  mothers  say 
they're  sick,  but  I  find  only  one  thing  the  matter  with 
them.  They  don't  get  enough  to  eat.  The  men  have 
been  locked  out  nearly  four  months.  Help  from  the 
Unions  in  other  cities  and  from  private  sources  comes 
in  very  slowly.  Things  are  desperate.  But  we  haven't 
come  uptown  to  beg  yet.  I  want  something  more  than 
money." 

"  You  want  me  to  intercede  with  the  factory 
owners  ?  "  John  suggested,  as  she  paused,  before  ex- 
plaining her  needs.     It  would  be  impossible  for  him 

15  '22S 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  do  this  in  person,  now  that  he  was  dangerously 
ill,  but  he  could  still  influence  others,  who  would  act 
in  his  stead.  He  would  not  deny  her.  He  approved 
of  industrial  peace,  as  far  as  it  could  be  obtained  with- 
out conceding  too  much.  The  time  for  a  truce  had 
come.  The  labor  element  had  been  starved  into  being 
reasonable.    He  would  meet  her  views. 

But  once  more  he  had  misunderstood  her  thought. 

"We  want  no  intercession,"  she  protested,  again 
ablaze  with  the  enthusiasm  of  her  righteous  cause. 
"  Why  do  you  suppose  these  men  are  letting  their 
women  and  children  suffer  and  die?  They  don't  in- 
tend to  be  beaten.  The  employers  mean  nothing  less 
than  to  kill  the  union  once  and  for  all.  The  men  believe 
it's  worth  dying  for — and  so  do  I !  " 

Then  he  began  to  comprehend  the  depth  of  the 
gulf  between  them.  He  had  become  a  man  of  force 
and  action, — practical  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  a  man 
of  enormous  wealth,  and  with  it  all,  accustomed  to 
measure  men  and  things  in  sane  terms  of  utility.  The 
woman  who  might  have  been  his  wife  had,  with  the 
years,  become  a  dreamer,  a  thing  made  up  of  im- 
pulses and  ardent  sympathies,  one  of  that  band  who 
go  smiling  to  death  for  an  idea — an  idea  whose 
greatest  beauty  lies  in  its  inability  ever  to  be  trans- 
formed into  dull  fact. 

He  sighed.  There  would  be  no  room  for  com- 
panionship with  her  in  the  short  time  he  was  still  to 

226 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

spend  on  earth.  She  was  past  argument,  even  had 
he  not  been  too  weary  to  attempt  it.  He  must  be  as 
pleasant  as  he  could,  do  what  lay  in  his  power  to 
please  her,  for  the  sake  of  "  auld  lang  syne,"  dismiss 
her  graciously,  and  finish  his  pilgrimage  alone. 

"  We'll  manage  to  hold  out  somehow,"  she  went 
on.  "  I  don't  know  how,  but  we'll  manage.  But 
meantime,  there's  another  danger  threatening — a  vital 
danger — and  that's  why  I  came  to  you.  Do  you 
know  of  the  suits  the  employers  have  brought  against 
our  men?  " 

"  In  a  vague  way,"  John  responded.  "  I  know 
the  four  clothing  companies  obtained  judgments 
against  the  members  of  the  Union  for  conspiracy  to 
boycott  them.    Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  every  man  who  belonged  to  the 
Union  was  sued.  It  wasn't  the  kind  of  proceeding 
usual  in  labor  troubles.  I'm  told  the  employers  gen- 
erally get  the  courts  to  give  them  injunctions  to  pre- 
vent the  strikers  from  doing  certain  things;  but  this 
time  they  let  the  men  print  an  advertisement  in  news- 
papers all  over  the  country,  telling  of  their  troubles. 
Then  they  brought  these  suits,  claiming  judgments 
against  all  these  poor,  ignorant  men,  for  the  injury 
they're  supposed  to  have  done  to  the  companies'  busi- 
ness. The  employers  won  their  case.  The  judgments 
amount  to  a  tremendous  sum  of  money — over  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars.    I  could  never  have  believed  it 

227 


THE  CONQUEST 

possible  for  our  men  to  lose;  but  I  was  in  court  when 
the  trial  ended.  Am  I  making  myself  clear  ?  "  she 
asked,  interrupting  herself. 

"  I  understand  the  situation  as  well  as  I  can,  with- 
out knowing  the  exact  facts,"  he  said.  "  The  court 
must  have  ruled  that  a  conspiracy  had  been  proved  to 
boycott  the  goods  of  the  companies.  All  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Union  were  parties  to  the  unlawful  scheme, 
actively  or  passively.  Therefore,  they  were  respon- 
sible in  damages  for  whatever  money  loss  they  inflicted 
on  the  plaintiffs." 

His  matter-of-fact,  technical  summary  of  the  affair 
seemed  to  her  to  range  him  definitely  among  the  ranks 
of  the  oppressors  of  Labor.  He  talked  precisely  as  the 
cold,  heartless  judge  had  done  at  the  trial.  He  showed 
no  comprehension  of  the  warm,  human  passions  lying 
beneath  the  surface  of  this  struggle.  Her  gesture  was 
one  of  baffled  misunderstanding. 

"  I  guess  I  haven't  made  you  see  it  perfectly,"  she 
insisted,  "  or  it  wouldn't  seem  so  casual  to  you.  It's 
unbelievable !  The  Union  all  through  this  trouble  has 
been  on  its  good  behavior.  There's  never  been  a  labor 
dispute  with  less  violence.  The  leaders  at  every  meet- 
ing cautioned  the  rank  and  file  to  respect  the  Law. 
This  advertisement  didn't  say  one  word  other  than  the 
literal  truth.  There  must  be  some  weapon  Labor  may 
use.  It  can't  be  that  Law  is  always  on  the  side  of  the 
capitalist." 

228 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

"  Suppose/'  he  suggested,  "  you  tell  me  the  exact 
wording  of  this  advertisement.  Then  I'll  be  able  to  tell 
you  with  more  certainty  whether  the  court's  ruling 
was  correct." 

"  I  brought  a  copy  of  it  with  me,"  she  told  him. 
"  I  feared,  perhaps,  you  had  given  it  no  attention  when 
it  appeared  in  the  papers." 

She  looked  at  him  reproachfully  as  she  said  this; 
but  he  was  already  engrossed  in  a  study  of  the  scrap 
of  newspaper  she  had  extracted  from  her  little  hand- 
satchel.  His  entire  attitude  had  changed.  His  air  of 
dejection  was  cast  aside.  His  face  was  full  of  keen 
intelligence.  He  was  a  lawyer,  at  work  once  more,  if 
only  for  a  brief  hour,  at  the  task  he  imderstood  and 
loved. 

No  word  of  the  printed  appeal  escaped  his  scrutiny, 
as  he  read  and  re-read  the  clipping  lying  on  his  desk. 
It  ran: 

The  Pioneer  Clothing  Company 
The  Alpha  Manufacturing  Company 
The  Columbia  Clothing  Company 

and 
The  Patapsco  Company 
have  locked   out   their   garment   workers.   The 
employees  and  their  children  are  starving. 

The  Men  are  Desperate. 
DO  you  think  you  will  feel  comfortable,  or  even  safe,  inside 

OF  A  suit  of  clothes  MADE  BY  THESE  COMPANIES  ? 

Without  any  comment,  John  rose  from  his  chair 
and  extracted  a  book  from  the  revolving  shelf  near  the 

229 


THE  CONQUEST 

window.  After  a  rapid  scrutiny  of  its  pages,  he  rang 
a  bell  at  the  side  of  his  desk.  A  boy  appeared  promptly 
and  vanished  with  equal  dispatch  when  he  had  heard 
the  order:  "  Bring  me  Volume  loo  of  the  Maryland 
Reports,  and  also  Volume  208  of  the  Supreme  Court 
Reports." 

Margaret  neither  understood  nor  sympathized  with 
this  display  of  the  legal  attitude.  It  seemed  absurd  to 
her — all  the  more  so  because  it  was  part  of  a  scheme 
of  government  which  ruled  men's  lives  and  her  own. 
She  had  laid  a  problem  before  this  highly-trained  man, 
— a  man  conceded  to  be  a  master  in  his  field.  He  did 
not  ask,  "  Is  this  newspaper  notice  true?  Is  it  unjust? 
Is  it  fair  to  punish  a  whole  group  of  men  for  its  pub- 
lication?" He  sent,  instead,  for  books,  to  find  out 
what  other  men,  perhaps  far  less  thoughtful  and 
learned  than  himself,  had  said  about  some  other  case, 
arising,  it  may  have  been,  under  circumstances  totally 
different  from  those  now  involved. 

When  John  had  finished  reading  the  citations  in  the 
two  books  which  had  been  brought  him,  he  turned  once 
more  to  Margaret. 

"  It's  a  delicate  point,"  he  informed  her,  with  the 
specialist's  appreciation  of  the  niceties  of  his  art.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  how  nearly  at  that  minute  he 
was  akin  to  Dr.  Deeming,  who  had  taken  that  morning 
a  similar  pride  in  his  accurate  and  fatal  diagnosis. 

"  Under  the  Law,  a  boycott,  enforced  by  an  actual 
230 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

or  implied  threat  of  any  kind,  is  illegal.  The  question 
is  whether  this  advertisement  contains  a  threat.  Its 
wording  is  innocent  on  its  face,  but  the  phrase  '  Would 
you  feel  comfortable,  or  even  safe,'  certainly  seems  to 
have  a  dangerous  hidden  meaning.  The  judge's  ruling 
is  the  view  one  would  expect  in  a  conservative  State, 
such  as  Maryland^  As  I  said,  it's  a  doubtful  question, 
with  the  odds  against  you." 

He  had  delivered  his  opinion.  She  ought  to  be 
satisfied.  Men  were  accustomed  to  pay  huge  sums  to 
know  his  views,  but,  of  course,  he  was  glad  to  have 
given  her  the  benefit  of  his  acumen,  as  a  matter  of 
grace.  He  was  surprised  to  find  her  strangely  im- 
satisfied. 

"Is  that  all  you  can  see  in  it?"  she  inquired, — 
once  more  letting  a  trace  of  scorn  creep  into  her  man- 
ner.   "A  pretty  point  of  doubtful  law  ?  " 

"  What  else  ought  I  to  see?  "  he  asked  in  his  turn. 
He  spoke  patiently.  His  ardor  in  this  last  bit  of  work 
was  rapidly  dying  away ;  he  was  wondering  once  more 
what  was  the  use  of  all  this  inconsequential  heat  and 
passion. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  means  to  me,"  she  broke  forth, 
eager  to  find  if  there  was  no  way  to  kindle  in  him  any 
compassion  for  the  suffering  men  and  women  she 
yearned  to  help.  "  It  means  each  poor  ignorant  man, 
who  has  worked  long  overtime  hours  to  buy  a  little 
home,  is  going  to  have  it  snatched  away  from  him — the 

231 


THE  CONQUEST 

poor,  squalid  house  for  which  he  has  been  paying 
money  into  a  building  association  for  years  and  years — 
just  because  he  wanted  a  bit  of  the  city  for  his  very 
own.  It  means  that  the  young  woman,  who  has  starved 
all  the  longings  a  girl  ought  to  have  for  pretty  things, 
in  order  to  scrape  together  a  little  dowry,  must  give 
her  wedding  portion  to  the  'Alpha '  or  the  *  Colum- 
bia,' instead.  Why  should  she  mind  putting  off  her 
wedding  five  or  ten  years  ?  It  means  some  savings 
bank  account,  which  has  grown  a  little  bigger  every 
week,  to  bring  an  old  father  or  mother  from  Russia 
or  Poland,  will  help  the  enemies  instead  of  the  friends 
of  a  worker,  who  toiled  like  a  galley-slave,  because  he 
was  fool  enough  to  love  someone.  The  old  people  who 
want  to  see  their  children*  again  before  they  die — why 
should  your  Law  care  about  them  ? 

"  It  means  more  than  that.  It  means  there  caa 
never  again  be  another  strike  or  another  organized 
resistance  to  a  lock-out,  no  matter  how  badly  our  men 
may  be  treated.  It  means  the  union  must  be  dissolved. 
Wef  printed  nothing  but  the  truth  and  we  tried  to  obey 
the  Law.  If  these  judgments  stand,  we  have  fair  notice 
served  on  us  never  to  cross  our  masters'  will  again. 
Our  last  weapon  is  struck  from  our  hands.  We  may 
not  even  appeal  to  the  public  to  punish  our  employers, 
but  the  Court  puts  a  lash  into  their  hands,  always  ready 
to  be  used  against  us.    We  shall  know  we  can  never  win 

232 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

a  fight  again.     At  our  first  move,  they  steal  all  our 
pitiful  little  savings." 

She  paused,  breathless  and  flushed  by  the  intensity 
of  the  wrongs  she  pictured,  and  almost  in  -tears,  as  she 
realized  how  unmoved  he  seemed  by  the  sorrows  she 
found  beyond  endurance.  He,  for  his  part,  was  lost 
once  more  in  a  maze  of  speculation  about  his  own 
tragedy — infinitely  more  pathetic  to  his  mind  than  the 
one  which  racked  her  heart.  He  was  thinking,  too,  of 
this  Margaret,  whose  life  once  lay  so  close  to  his  own, 
and  who  was  now  hopelessly  adrift  on  the  sea  of  im- 
practical altruism — wasting  all  her  charm  and  wit  in 
serving  sodden  creatures,  whose  only  claim  on  her  was 
their  stupid  inability  to  guard  their  own  interests. 

She  brought  him  sharply  to  himself  by  demanding 
earnestly :  "  Don't  you  care  ?  Are  these  things  nothing 
to  you?" 

"  I  do  care,"  he  replied,  but  with  no  great  enthusi- 
asm. "  I  wish  the  world  were  a  more  comfortable 
place  for  all  of  us;  but  it  seems  to  be  a  war  zone,  and 
battles  mean  suffering.  Nobody  escapes,"  he  added 
wearily.  Was  not  he  himself  struck  down  on  the  field 
he  had  conquered  ? 

He  continued  to  expound  his  views  with  the  same 
quiet  authority  which  she  found  so  irritating. 

"  I  did  not  create  these  conditions.  Neither  did 
the  owners  of  the  garment  factories,  for  that  matter. 
Most  of  us  are  sorry  to  find  life  means  killing  or  being 

*33 


THE  CONQUEST 

killed.  None  of  us  made  these  laws  of  which  you  com- 
plain. We  have  to  use  them  as  well  as  we  can  to  defend 
ourselves.  Surely  you  see  no  particular  virtue  in  being 
awkward,  instead  of  adept  in  the  fight." 

He  was  making  no  greater  impression  upon  her 
mood  than  she  had  on  his ;  and  he  was  prompt  to  realize 
the  futility  of  the  discussion — all  the  more  since  he 
was  beyond  all  interest  in  such  trivial  affairs.  He 
brought  the  conversation  back  once  more  to  the  specific 
problem  before  them. 

"  You're  not  interested  in  what  I  think  of  these 
questions.  You  wanted  my  concrete  help.  I've  told 
you  the  Law ;  not  perhaps  what  it  should  be,  but  what 
it  is.    Now  what  would  you  like  me  to  do?  " 

The  spirit  seemed  to  go  utterly  out  of  her.  His 
frigid  practical  common  sense  had  robbed  her  of  hope 
and  enthusiasm.  She  went  on  with  her  task  almost 
mechanically. 

"iWe  want  to  appeal  this  case.  If  we  can't  win 
it,  we  might  as  well  give  up  everything  at  once,  dis- 
solve the  union  and  let  the  men  go  back  and  beg  for 
work  as  non-union  men.  You  seem  to  think  our  chances 
are  poor.  We  need  counsel  who  will  know  how  to 
manage  such  matters.  One  of  our  own  lawyers  tried 
the  case  last  time — Schwartzman.  Poor  fellow! — He 
did  his  best,  but  he  blundered  all  the  way  through.  The 
judge  ruled  against  him  on  every  point.  He  can't 
speak  English  very  well.    To  send  him  to  the  Court  of 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

Appeals  would  be  useless.  He  says  so  himself.  We 
haven't  any  money.  There  isn't  enough  to  feed  the 
people  decently,  much  less  to  pay  the  fee  of  a  good 
lawyer.  The  costs  of  appeal  are  heavy.  We  have 
almost  come  to  the  end  of  our  road,  unless — "  she 
ended,  *'  you  can  see  your  way  clear  to  help  us." 

Her  dejection  swayed  him  more  potently  than  her 
fervid  eloquence.  She  was  unhappy.  It  was  true  her 
sadness  grew  out  of  meddling  with  matters  she  should 
have  avoided ;  but  still  she  was  miserable,  as  he  himself 
was.    He  must  do  something  to  lighten  her  burden. 

"If  money  is  what  you  require,"  he  therefore 
hastened  to  say,  "  you  need  give  yourself  no  further 
concern.  These  friends  of  yours  will  care  very  little 
what  may  be  my  feelings  regarding  their  position.  My 
action  is  frankly  influenced  only  by  a  desire  to  meet 
your  wishes.  That  is  no  affair  of  theirs.  You  may 
draw  on  me  freely  for  all  the  expenses  of  the  appeal. 
I  will  even  suggest  to  yoii,  if  you  desire  it,  the  name 
of  the  best  lawyer  for  your  work.  You'll  need  a  strong 
man,  particularly  if  Schwartzman  has  tangled  up  the 
record  in  the  trial  below.  Whatever  the  fees  are,  I'll 
pay." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  awaiting  some  sign  of 
gratitude.  But  Margaret's  face  showed  nothing  but 
sorrowful  pity — pity  for  him,  the  magnanimous  giver 
of  lavish  gifts!  So  this  was  the  man  she  had  been 
ready   to    marry — this    purse-proud    over-lord,    who 

335 


THE  CONQUEST 

thought  the  highest  form  of  service  was  the  flinging 
of  gold  into  the  dirt  for  beggars  to  scramble  over. 

Her  reply  was  framed  in  this  spirit.  "  I  have  no 
right — coming  here,  as  I  have  done,  on  behalf  of 
others — to  refuse  your  offer.  They  are  desperate  and 
unhappy  men,  and  what  you  give,  they  will,  as  you  say, 
accept.  They  won't  analyze  your  motives.  But  I'd  be 
taking  your  money  under  false  pretences  if  I  let  you 
believe  you  had  done  what  I  hoped  of  you — if  I  didn't 
show  you  how  bitterly  disappointed  in  you  I  am !  " 

His  surprise  at  her  speech  was  entirely  sincere. 
He  had  been  wholly  engrossed  in  his  own  problem, 
and  what  more  she  could  want  from  him  he  could  not 
guess.     He  wasn't  even  hurt  or  angry. 

"  What  was  your  hope?  "  he  inquired.  "  What  did 
you  expect  of  me?  " 

"  I  thought  you'd  tell  me  you  yourself  would  take 
full  charge  of  our  appeal,"  she  said.  **A11  through  this 
trouble,  men  have  said  to  me,  *  If  you  could  interest 
John  Howard,  he  could  win  the  case.  He  can  win 
cases  other  men — good  men — would  lose.'  I  know 
you  wouldn't  do  it  because  you  cared  much  about  the 
Union,  or  how  its  members  suffered."  She  hesitated  a 
minute,  but  then  went  on  bravely,  with  what  evidently 
seemed  to  her  hard  words  to  speak :  "  I  believed  you'd 
do  it,  whether  you  found  it  distasteful  or  not,  because 
it  was  I,  who  after  all  these  years  had  come  and  asked 
it  of  you." 

236 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

He  realized,  almost  with  a  sense  of  shock,  that  she 
had  been  thinking  of  the  John  Howard  who  had  lived 
and  ruled  yesterday.  Of  the  broken,  helpless  wreck 
of  to-day  she  could  know  nothing.  Chance,  which  he 
had  heretofore  dominated  in  his  own  masterful  fashion, 
was  taking,  at  the  end,  a  usurious  and  brutal  revenge. 
Not  content  with  all  the  torment  she  had  decreed  to  be 
his  portion,  she  had  sent  to  him  this  phantom  of  the 
days  of  his  youth,  to  beg  at  his  hand  the  one  favor  he 
was  powerless  to  grant. 

Hopeless  as  the  task  appeared,  he  still  made  an 
effort  to  reconcile  her  to  his  denial  of  her  request. 

"If  it  were  in  any  way  possible  for  me  to  argue 
your  appeal  myself,  I'd  do  it.  There  is  a  compelling 
reason  which  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  give  this 
case  my  personal  attention;  but  what  difference  does 
that  make?  .  If  I  give  you  another  man — a  reliable 
one — why  should  yjou  care  whether  it's  he  or  I  ?  " 

She  had  leaped  without  much  thought  to  a  con- 
clusion. John  Howard  would  not  appear  in  the  matter, 
because  it  might  interfere  with  his  business  connections. 
Even  the  memory  of  their  idyl  and  its  ruthless  ending 
was  not  strong  enough  to  induce  him  to  take  a  step 
which  might  prejudice  his  position  as  one  of  the  masters 
of  the  commercial  life  of  the  city.  Her  mood  was  full 
of  bitterness  and  humiliation,  as  she  forced  herself  to 
make  a  final  plea  for  his  aid,  but  she  strove  to  forget 

237 


THE  CONQUEST 

herself  and  think  only  of  the  starving  men  and  women 
who  had  sent  her,  and  of  their  great  need. 

"  Do  you  honestly  believe,"  she  inquired,  earnestly, 
"you  could  find  us  a  lawyer  as  skilful  as  yourself? 
We  have  been  led  to  suppose  no  one  has  such  success 
as  you  in  the  Court  of  Appeals.  I'm  frank  to  confess 
there  is  a  sentiment  in  my  own  feeling  toward  the 
question.  It  would  be  beautiful  if  you'd  allow  no  one 
but  yourself  to  attempt  this  one  thing  I  want  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world.  But  it's  too  big  a 
matter  to  be  governed  by  a  mere  woman's  feelings. 
Only  remember  you  said  our  case  was  a  dangerous 
one,  and  tell  me  truly,  is  there  anyone  else  who  can 
gain  for  us,  as  well  as  you  can,  the  full  benefit  of  our 
poor  forlorn  chance  ?  " 

Her  solemn  question  demanded  nothing  less  than 
truth;  nor  was  John's  nature  one  whose  doubts  of  his 
own  ability  gave  him  a  loophole  of  escape.  He  was 
sure  there  was  no  one  who  could  bring  to  bear  on  the 
Court  the  same  compelling  persuasiveness  as  himself. 
He  understood  how  the  judges'  minds  worked.  He 
had  made  a  study  of  the  mental  temperament  of  every- 
one of  the  Court's  members.  Besides,  he  knew  how 
to  talk.  It  was  an  art  in  which  he  admitted  no  rival. 
He  was  a  specialist.  He  was  no  orator.  Maudlin 
vaporing  was  not  for  him.  The  intrinsic  beauty  of  a 
discourse  was  something  he  contemptuously  ignored. 
But  in  forcing  men  to  adopt  his  views  upon  debatable 

238 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

questions,  he  believed  himself  to  be  unique.  Nobody 
could  do  his  work  as  he  did  it. 

He  accepted  this  with  such  simple  sincerity,  it  would 
have  seemed  to  him  a  waste  of  effort  to  attempt  con- 
vincing Margaret  to  the  contrary.  His  superiority  was 
axiomatic.    So  he  could  only  reply : 

"  You  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  said  the  man  Fll 
get  you  could  take  charge  of  the  appeal  as  well  as  I; 
but  I'll  get  you  the  very  best  man  available — a  better 
man  than  the  other  side  has.  Really,  I  wish  I  could 
make  you  understand  how  gladly  I'd  try  this  ca^e  my- 
self, if  I  could.  It's  only  because  I  absolutely  can- 
not  " 

His  constant  repetition  of  his  inability  to  do  what 
seemed  to  her  so  clear  a  duty,  was  an  added  factor  in 
her  humiliation.  He  would  not  do  what  she  had  stooped 
to  beg  of  him;  but  neither  would  he  answer  with  a 
flat,  brutal  negative.  He  persisted  in  being  courteous, 
in  offering  her  worthless  substitutes,  for  which  he 
expected  gratitude.  She  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
She  interrupted  his  half-finished  sentence  by  rising  to 
take  her  leave. 

"I've  no  power  to  force  you,"  she  remarked  coldly. 
"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  need  make  any  explana- 
tions or  apologies  to  me." 

So  she  was  leaving  him, — going  without  having 
exchanged  one  word  about  herself  or  himself.  The 
estrangement  between  them  had  grown  greater  rather 

239 


THE  CONQUEST 

than  less  by  reason  of  this  morning's  meeting.  It  all 
appeared  confusing  and  unnecessary  to  John.  If  he 
were  himself,  he  knew  he  could  have  taken  control  of 
the  interview,  guiding  it  into  proper  channels,  and 
bringing  it  to  a  close  of  triumphant  reconciliation.  But 
he  was  not  himself.  He  was  unutterably  tired.  His 
morning  had  been  crowded  with  mental  strain  and  un- 
happiness.  His  very  soul  ached  with  w^eariness  and 
distaste  for  all  things. 

Still,  in  spite  of  it  all,  he  made  a  feeble  effort  to 
assert  himself. 

"  Sit  down  again,  Margaret,"  he  commanded, 
boldly  striking  a  note  of  surprise  by  refusing  to  accept 
her  studied  choice  to  speak  of  him  as  "  Mr.  Howard." 
"  I  don't  want  you  to  go,  feeling  as  you  now  do." 

But  at  this  return  to  the  voice  and  manner  of  his 
earlier  years,  Margaret's  tense  self-control  suddenly 
snapped. 

"  I  will  not  sit  down,"  she  answered  fiercely.  "I 
ought  never  have  come  to  you  at  all.  You'll  never 
know  how  hard  I  found  it.  No  one  but  a  woman  could 
understand  that.  And  when  I  did  come,  you  put  me 
off"  with  polite  phrases — oiT ered  me  some  of  your  money- 
bags, when  what  I  asked  was  yourself.  That's  the 
one  thing  you  were  never  willing  to  give  to  anyone. 
It  was  not  merely  because  you  have  no  sympathy  with 
the  union  that  you  won't  try  this  case.  Most  of  the 
time,  I  dare  say,  you  don't  care  what  happens  to  your 

240 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

clients.  You  think  their  cause  is  wrong  as  often  as 
right.  It  was  because  you  won't  allow  anyone — not 
me,  nor  anyone  else — to  swerve  you  one  inch  from 
your  own  plans.  No  one's  pain  or  suffering  is  so 
important  to  you  as  your  own  schemes." 

He  sat  perfectly  quiet,  watching  her.  She  had  ex- 
pected some  expression  of  anger  or  impatience.  Its 
absence  somehow  irritated  her  the  more.  He  was  above 
petty  passions;  he  could  view  resentment,  just  as  he 
did  misery,  from  his  own  lofty  attitude  of  inscrutable 
detachment. 

She  went  on  a  little  less  angrily  and  with  more 
real  regret. 

"  I  know  I've  no  right  to  talk  to  you  like  this.  You 
didn't  have  to  see  me  at  all.  You  never  made  any 
effort  in  all  these  years  to  find  out  what  had  become 
of  me,  and  it  was  I  who  came  to  you.  But  since  we 
did  meet  again,  I  want  you  to  know  how  much  you've 
fallen  short  of  what  I  once  hoped  of  you.  What  you 
call  success,  has  been  a  bad  thing  for  you,  John  How- 
ard. When  you  were  a  boy,  for  all  your  egotism, 
there  was  a  charm  and  nobility  about  you.  You've 
killed  them.  You've  exchanged  them  for  money  and  the 
power  to  put  up  tall  buildings  and  make  men  do  what 
you  want.  Do  you  think  it  was  worth  while?  You 
haven't  one  true  human  emotion,  and  you  haven't  in- 
spired one  in  anyone  else.  Some  day  you'll  grow  old 
and  get  ready  to  die,  and  you'll  see  what  it's  all  worth 

241 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  you !  You'll  wonder  why  you  worked  so  hard  for  a 
pile  of  dead  leaves !  " 

Her  passion  exhausted  itself.  In  a  quick  reaction, 
she  realized  she  had  said  too  much.  He  was  so  pale, 
she  was  almost  alarmed.  Yet  she  had  said  nothing  but 
the  truth.  He  continued  to  gaze  at  her  in  the  same 
uncanny  fashion.  She  had  added  to  all  his  other  woes. 
She  had  managed  to  cause  his  wound  to  bleed  again 
with  her  thoughtless  tirade  about  the  empty  worth- 
lessness  of  his  work.  How  hard  and  merciless  these 
fanatics  were !  With  all  their  chatter  about  sympathy, 
they  had  none  to  give,  except  to  their  inferiors,  who 
begged  for  it  abjectly;  they  gave  compassion,  for  all 
the  world,  precisely  as  the  vulgar  rich  man  they  jeered 
at  doled  out  alms  to  cringing  mendicants;  and  with 
it  all,  they  were  perfectly  sure  of  their  own  virtue! 

Her  bitterness  had  engendered  a  corresponding 
feeling  in  him.  He  couldn't  make  her  understand; 
perhaps  it  wasn't  worth  while ;  but  he  could  at  least  put 
her  completely  in  the  wrong  by  telling  her  why  he  had 
refused  her  case.  It  would  show  her  how  little  she 
could  rely  on  her  own  judgments.  It  would  cut  away 
the  ground  from  all  she  had  said;  she  would  be  left 
in  entire  rout  and  confusion.  To  pierce  her  proud 
armor  of  superior  righteousness,  it  would  be  worth 
while  exhibiting  his  own  fatal  malady.  Anyhow,  she 
would  be  sure  to  hear  of  his  illness  soon.     The  city 

242 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

would  ring  with  it.  He  would  give  himself  this  joy- 
less amusement. 

She  was  already  about  ta  leave  the  office,  when  he 
spoke.  There  was  neither  friendliness  nor  anger  in 
his  voice.    It  was  dry  and  full  of  sarcasm. 

"  Like  many  of  your  well-meaning  friends,  who 
devote  their  lives  to  uplifting  us,  your  conclusions  are 
formed  without  knowing  any  of  the  facts.  You  revo- 
lutionists would  change  the  world,  without  stopping 
to  find  out  what's  wrong  with  it.  You  love  all  man- 
kind, except  those  who  won't  do  what  you  want.  For 
all  your  prating,  you  haven't  even  enough  tolerance 
to  learn  why  they  won't  obey  you.  As  for  myself,  I 
was  about  to  tell  you  I  am  unable  to  try  your  case, 
because  this  morning  your  distinguished  colleague. 
Dr.  Deeming,  forbade  it.  I  have  to  die  instead.  I 
realize  this  involves  some  little  inconvenience  to  the 
garment-workers'  union.  I  regret  sincerely  my 
thoughtlessness  in  choosing  such  an  inopportune  time 
and  ailment  as  I  have  done.  My  only  excuse  is  my 
complete  ignorance  of  the  request  you  were  on  the 
verge  of  making." 

He  had  intended  putting  her  into  an  indefensible 
position, — filling  her  thoughts  to  overflowing  with  keen 
regret  for  all  she  had  done  and  said.  He  had  his  wish. 
She  even  could  find  nothing  to  resent  in  his  cutting 
irony.  She  had  deserved  it,  and  much  more.  She  sank 
back  into  her  chair,  unable  to  put  her  scattered  ideas 

243 


THE  CONQUEST 

into  words.  Her  mobile  face  spoke  of  shocked  sym- 
pathy. She  held  out  her  hand,  as  though  pleading  to 
be  forgiven. 

He  rejected  it  with  more  vigorous  emotion  than  he 
had  shown  during  the  whole  morning. 

"Why  should  what  I  tell  you  have  any  effect  on 
you?"  he  asked  bitterly.  "  It  doesn't  change  anything. 
You  said  my  work  was  worthless;  that  I  myself  am 
worthless  and  that  some  day  I'd  get  ready  to  die  and 
see  it.  Now  the  time's  come  when  I  have  to  get  ready. 
None  of  it  made  any  difference  to  you  till  you  saw  it 
under  your  own  eyes.  If  you  were  right,  you  ought  to 
be  glad  to  see  yourself  vindicated.  If  you  were  wrong, 
you  ought  to  have  been  sorry  without  needing  any  such 
demonstration.  As  for  your  pity,  I  don't  want  it !  It's 
bought  too  cheaply !  It  goes  out  to  anyone  who  has  an 
ache  or  a  pain — no  matter  how  he  got  it,  or  what  he 
was  doing  before!" 

He  remembered  suddenly  Deeming' s  orders  to 
avoid  excitement.  He  forced  himself  to  be  silent.  She 
would  go  now.  He  had  had  his  revenge.  He  would 
pay  for  it  probably  by  another  heart  spasm.  He  felt 
strangely  apprehensive.  He  opened  his  handkerchief 
and  furtively  tried  to  slip  into  it  one  of  his  little  glass 
beads.  He  hoped  she  would  not  notice  his  action,  but 
she  had  been  watching  him  narrowly,  with  the  prac- 
tised eye  of  a  physician,  and  the  little  perl,  full  of  its 

244 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

pale  yellow  fluid,  gave  her  its  hint  of  all  the  tragedy 
into  which  she  had  unwittingly  stepped. 

By  this  time  she  had  altogether  recovered  her  poise. 
She  was  no  longer  the  labor  advocate.  She  was  the 
carefully-taught  and  experienced  practitioner  of  medi- 
cine.   She  spoke  very  gently  to  the  stricken  man. 

"You  saw  Dr.  Deeming  this  morning?"  He 
nodded.  "And  he  told  you  what  was  the  matter 
with  you?  " 

"  He  did/'  John  answered,  still  annoyed  by  her  sud- 
den solicitude.  "  I  made  him.  You  seem  to  have 
guessed  from  this  amyl  nitrite  perl.  I  forgot  for  the 
instant  you  were  a  doctor.  Now  you  know.  I  have  to 
stop  work.  If  you'd  come  here  this  afternoon,  you'd 
have  found  another  man  at  my  desk.  I  was  getting 
ready  to  leave  when  you  were  announced.  My  orders 
are  imperative.  I'm  to  spend  the  interval  prior  to  my 
final  exit,  as  you  have  so  kindly  suggested,  counting  my 
dry  leaves." 

"  Don't" — Margaret  protested  in  genuine  distress. 
"  I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am.  It  was  impardonable 
of  me !  It  was  good  enough  of  you  to  see  me  at  all !  It 
must  have  been  a  horrible  strain, — all  in  the  same 
morning,  too.    Can't  you  say  you  forgive  me?" 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it.  After  all, 
what  difference  did  it  make?  He  felt  he  had  been 
rather  childish,  but  nothing  mattered  much  any  longer. 
He  wished  she  would  go  away  and  let  him  drive  home 

HS 


THE  CONQUEST 

and  rest.    She  seemed  to  understand  his  anxiety  to  be 
left  alone,  and  yet  she  lingered. 

"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  to  make  things  easier, 
John?"  she  asked. 

The  old  appealing  tenderness  came  back  into  her 
voice.  She  had  used  the  old  name  again.  His  indif- 
ference to  her  was  drowned  in  memories  of  the  Mar- 
garet who  had  once  loved  him  with  such  complete  for- 
getfulness  of  self. 

He  shook  his  head  despairingly.  "  Nothing,"  he 
affirmed.    "  Fm  done  for." 

"  Just  because  you  have  angina "  she  began. 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  he  interjected.  "Deeming  rang  the 
changes  on  that  theme  till  it  sickened  me.  HI  keep 
quiet  and  do  nothing  but  rot,  perhaps  I  may  keep  alive 
awhile.  Well,  I  don't  want  to.  It's  not  worth  the 
trouble.'* 

She  sighed.  It  all  seemed  pitiful  to  her.  Then  she 
added  what  Deeming  had  not  said : 

"  You're  not  afraid  to  die,  John  ?  I  can't  imagine 
that  of  you." 

"  Certainly  not !"  he  flashed  back  at  her.  'T  can  die 
as  well  as  any  man  has  done." 

"  Well,  then,"  she  said,  as  she  rose  to  go,  "  you 
have  one  kind  of  work  still  before  you.  You've  dealt 
with  life  after  a  masterful  fashion.  How  are  you 
going  to  deal  with  death  ?  " 


246 


It  was  nearly  a  week  after  Margaret's  visit  to  John 
before  they  met  again.  John  did  not  go  to  Palm  Beach, 
as  Dr.  Deeming  had  ordered.  Instead,  he  went  to  his 
home  in  Roland  Park,  to  think  long  and  inconclusive 
thoughts  about  the  meaning  of  life  and  the  mystery  of 
death.  Margaret's  challenge  had  somehow  lent  a  new 
aspect  to  his  problem.  He  had  assumed  death  to  be  a 
mere  end  to  living.  For  her,  apparently,  it  was  some- 
thing more — a  situation  to  be  met  and  moulded  some- 
how into  harmony  with*  one's  character.  It  was  worth 
thinking  about,  even  if  there  were  no  validity  to  the 
idea.  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  those  illusions  invented  by 
man  to  fill  the  sense  of  void  he  cannot  endure.  At  any 
rate,  he  meant  to  think  his  problem  out.  It  was  not  his 
temperament  to  make  believe  he  was  well,  and  would 
live  many  years — to  close  his  eyes  to  the  approaching 
crisis. 

It  was  for  this  reason  he  was  so  determined  to  avoid 
Palm  Beach  and  Hilda.  He  felt,  if  he  were  with  her, 
he  would  have  to  pretend  to  be  cheerful ;  to  mingle  with 
her  thoughtless,  fashionable  friends ;  to  preserve  a  rigid 
sense  of  good  taste,  which  excluded  all  thoughts  of 
such  uncouth  things  as  disease  and  death. 

So  he  called  Hilda  on  the  long-distance  telephone, 
and  chatted  with  her  in  the  witty,  shallow  manner  he 

H7 


THE  CONQUEST 

could  affect  when  he  thought  it  necessary.  This  form 
of  conversation  had  become  the  staple  of  daily- 
exchange  of  words  between  John  and  his  wife.  He 
had  never  found  it  unduly  burdensome  to  him,  any 
more  than  calling  a  man  on  the  Bench,  for  whom  he 
had  unmeasured  contempt,"  Your  Honor."  But  now 
this  affected  cleverness  required  a  colossal  effort.  His 
position  was  further  complicated  by  the  knowledge  in 
his  mind  of  the  impending  newspaper  headlines  about 
his  illness.  It  would  be  impossible  for  a  man  like  him- 
self to  withdraw  from  the  management  of  so  many 
important  corporations  in  the  city,  without  creating  a 
furore  of  excitement,  some  of  which  must  inevitably 
find  a  reflection  in  the  press.  It  was  his  purpose  to 
prepare  Hilda  to  read  such  gossip  without  alarm.  He 
told  her,  therefore,  with  strict  injunctions  to  breathe 
no  word  of  his  plan  to  anyone,  his  intention  to  perpetu- 
ate a  huge  financial  coup.  She  must  not  be  alarmed  by 
any  rumors  concerning  him  he  might  find  it  necessary 
to  circulate.  They  would  be  most  circumstantial,  he 
assured  her,  with  a  cynical  laugh.  He  might  even 
decide  to  perish  for  a  week  or  two,  but  as  she  could 
hear  at  the  other  end  of  the  telephone  line,  he  was  in 
his  usual  rugged  health,  and  only  his  morals  were 
infirm.  He  hung  up  the  receiver  without  one  qualm 
of  remorse.  His  death  would  not  affect  Hilda  greatly ; 
she  managed  already  to  get  along  without  him  most 
comfortably.    She  would  find  a  black  costume,  with  a 

248 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

touch  of  white  here  and  there,  highly  becoming,  The 
greatest  service  she  could  now  render  him  was  to  keep 
away.  If  she  had  been  at  home,  he  would  have  gone 
abroad — ^not  because  he  wasn't  fond  of  her,  in  a  way, 
or  because  she  didn't  do  whatever  she  could  to  please 
him;  but  she  was  part  of  his  life  of  pretence  and  mere 
externals,  and  in  his  last  days  he  wanted  to  grapple 
with  verities.  He  smiled  sardonically,  as  he  remem- 
bered he  was  beginning  the  search  for  the  truths  of  life 
and  death  by  lying  to  his  wife,  but  one  lie,  even  if 
repeated  daily,  seemed  to  him  far  less  compromising 
than  the  thousand  and  one  petty  affectations  and  for- 
malities to  which  he  must  conform  if  he  resumed  his 
daily  round  of  existence  with  Hilda. 

He  had  intended  hunting  up  Margaret  Gilmor  next 
day.  There  were  a  host  of  things  about  which  he 
wanted  to  talk  to  her.  He  had  the  best  excuse  for  a 
visit,  since,  at  her  parting,  he  had  made  no  definite 
arrangements  for  meeting  the  costs  of  the  Appeal  in 
the  Garment  Workers'  case.  However,  he  passed 
a  wretched,  sleepless  night  following  the  day  of  their 
interview,  and  when  he  arose  next  morning,  it  was  to 
learn  that  Flaxman,  his  most  prominent  rival  in  the 
city's  financial  life,  was  evolving  schemes  to  succeed 
him  in  control  of  the  Atlantic  Trust  &  Deposit  Com- 
pany. This  man  would  upset  his  most  cherished  poli- 
cies. He  would  punish  his  closest  business  associates 
for  having  been  lieutenants  of  John  Howard.     Of 

249 


THE  CONQUEST 

course,  John  had  known  this  must  happen  when  he 
abandoned  the  helm,  but  its  actual  imminence  was  none 
the  less  Unbearably  bitter  to  him.  And  he  could  still 
prevent  it;  that  was  the  most  tantalizing  of  all  his 
thoughts.  It  was  only  necessary  for  him  to  assert  him- 
self, to  appear  among  the  men  who  had  never  failed  to 
obey  his  commands ;  to  get  a  few  options  here  and  there 
on  the  Atlantic's  stock  and  to  order  Berg  to  sell  no 
more  of  his  own  holdings.  In  a  turmoil  of  suppressed 
excitement,  he  decided  he  would  balk  Flaxman's  plan. 
He  didn't  care  whether  it  killed  him  or  not.  To  the 
Devil  with  Deeming  and  his  croaking!  Ill  as  he  was, 
and  without  sleep,  he  still  was  more  than  a  match  for 
these  miserable  harpies !  Hurriedly  he  made  his  plans, 
ordered  his  chauffeur  to  bring  his  car  to  the  door  and, 
gulping  down  a  hasty  breakfast,  made  ready  for  a  day 
of  carnage. 

The  inexorable  hand  of  his  malady  clutched  him 
before  he  could  leave  his  home.  In  the  excruciating 
pain  of  the  next  few  minutes,  he  ceased  to  care  what 
became  of  the  Atlantic,  or  Flaxman,  or  himself. 
Deeming,  hurriedly  summoned  by  the  chauffeur,  had 
ordered  him  to  be  put  to  bed,  and  had  insisted  on  sum- 
moning Hilda.  But  although  weak  and  exhausted, 
upon  this  point  John  was  inexorable.  He  would  not 
have  her  vacation  disturbed.  She  had  barely  had  time 
to  become  acclimated  in  Florida.  He  could  be  taken 
care  of  ju3t  as  well  in  her  absence,  and  if  Deeming^ 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

could  not  refrain  from  intruding  his  advice  upon  a 
matter  so  definitely  beyond  the  field  of  medicine,  John 
would  most  regretfully  feel  compelled  to  ask  him  to 
withdraw  from  the  case.  Deeming,  scenting  some  mari- 
tal infelicity,  and  anxious  not  to  excite  his  patient 
further,  held  his  peace. 

After  the  first  day  in  bed,  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
John  to  wonder  if  Margaret  would  not  be  surprised 
and  chagrined  at  his  failure  to  communicate  with  her. 
regarding  the  costs  of  the  Garment-Workers'  Appeal. 
So  he  telephoned  her  from  his  bedside,  telling  her 
lightly  of  his  indisposition  and  speaking  with  much 
mock  indignation  of  the  tyranny  of  her  distinguished 
colleague.  Deeming.  He  talked  to  her,  in  fact,  much  in 
the  same  vein  as  he  spoke  each  day  to  Hilda,  and  he 
assured  Margaret  he  would  get  in  touch  with  her  in  a 
few  days.  She  appeared  deeply  concerned,  and  seemed 
to  harbor,  for  an  instant,  the  idea  of  calling  at  his  home 
to  cheer  him  up.  Then  she  suggested  regretfully  that 
she  had  never  been  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  Mrs. 
Howard. 

"  My  wife's  in  Florida/'  he  had  informed  her,  as 
though  there  were,  therefore,  no  further  obstacle.  The 
idea  of  seeing  her,  even  bedridden  and  ridiculous  as  he 
was,  appealed  to  him. 

But  she  had  promptly  answered:  "Oh,  if  your 
wife's  in  Florida,  of  course  I  couldn't  come." 

251 


THE  CONQUEST 

How  absurdly  conventional  women  were — even 
intelligent  women! 

"  But  you're  a  physician,"  he  had  urged.  "Surely 
you're  not  a  slave  to  all  the  ridiculous  rules  of  dainty 
society  ladies !" 

She  was  not  to  be  moved.  He  heard  her  laugh  rip- 
ple pleasantly  over  the  wire  and  her  answer :  *'  As  a 
physician,  I  can't  come,  for  sure.  It  would  be  posi- 
tively unethical  for  me  to  call  on  Dr.  Deeming' s 
patient." 

"  As  a  labor  leader,  then,"  he  suggested,  "  in  search 
of  a  large  and  forthcoming  contribution  to  your 
Union's  treasury." 

"  Oh !  I'll  get  that  anyhow,"  she  laughed.  "  And  as 
a  labor  leader,  I  have  to  remember  it's  bad  for  a  pro- 
fessional agitator  to  be  seen  too  often  with  capitalists. 
My  men  will  say  you  have  bribed  me  to  desert  them." 

He  had  to  be  content  with  her  invitation  to  come  to 
her  office  as  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered.  His 
anxiety  to  be  out  of  doors  once  more  was  definitely 
heightened  by  his  wish  to  talk  to  her  again. 

He  found  occasion,  upon  one  of  Deeming's  visits, 
to  ask  him  casually  whether  he  had  ever  heard  of  a 
certain  woman  physician,  named  Margaret  Gilmor. 
*'She  called  at  my  office  on  the  day  I  first  saw  you,  to 
ask  an  opinion  regarding  the  legal  aspects  of  some  labor 
trouble."     His  air  of  imconcern  was  almost  perfect. 

252 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

"  An  interesting  woman  she  seemed.  Do  you  happen 
to  know  her  ?" 

"Know  Margaret  Gilmor?  Well,  I  guess  I  do 
know  her,"  Deeming  had  answered.  ""  She  was  a  pupil 
of  mine  at  Hopkins,  way  back  in — well  never  mind 
what  year  it  was ;  we're  both  trying  to  forget  it.  And 
since  she's  graduated,  every  doctor  knows  her,  and  we 
are  all  more  or  less  in  love  with  her.  That  is,  we  want 
to  kneel  at  her  feet  half  the  time,  and  the  other  half, 
shake  her  until  her  teeth  chatter.  She  knows  medicine. 
She  could  be  a  great  scientist  if  she  didn't  fritter  away 
her  energies  on  stray  human  cats  and  dogs.  But  she 
does.  She  threw  up  a  good  practice  in  New  York 
among  rich  feminine  cranks,  who  won't  consult  brutal 
male  physicians,  just  to  come  back  here  to  treat  measles 
and  mumps  in  a  God- forsaken  hole  downtown.  And 
even  there,  if  she'd  only  stick  to  medicine,  it  wouldn't 
be  so  bad.  She  is  a  splendid  clinician,  and  there's  lots 
of  material  in  her  section  of  the  city.  •  But  she  has 
some  idea  about  being  a  ministering  neighborhood 
angel.  It  gets  her  into  all  kinds  of  trouble.  Just  now, 
it's  a  garment-workers'  lock-out.  Last  year,  it  was 
infant  mortality.  Next  year — woman's  suffrage, 
maybe." 

John  smiled.  "  I  gather  you  don't  approve  of  the 
new  fads  and  fancies,"  he  suggested. 

"  I  neither  approve  nor  disapprove,"  the  doctor 
answered  austerely.    "  In  my  opinion,  a  scientist  has  no 

253 


THE  CONQUEST 

concern  with  such  matters.  Life,  at  the  best,  is  short 
enough  for  anyone  who  wants  to  make  some  real 
advance  in  m.edicine.  And  the  passions  aroused  by 
controversy,  besides  wasting  time,  have  a  tendency,  I 
believe,  to  unfit  one  for  research.  I  always  point  out 
Margaret  Gilmor  to  my  wife  as  an  argument  against 
women-  in  medicine.  She's  got  all  the  equipment  one 
could  ask :  brains,  skill,  training  and  a  charming  per- 
sonality. Yet,  because  she's  a  woman,  she's  emo- 
tionally unfit  to  make  the  most  of  them.  She  spends 
her  time  doing  the  things  a  country  doctor  could  do — - 
if  not  quite  as  well  as  she  can — at  least,  well  enough. 
It  would  have  been  better  for  her  if  she'd  married  and 
spent  her  time  fussing  aver  hox  own  babies,  instead  of 
those  of  dirty  Pole;g  and  Lithuanians." 

"  Do  you  tell  her  that?"  John  asked,  as  the  doctor 
made  ready  to  go. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  I  tell  her  that  every  time  I  see  her," 
Deeming  said,  smiling.  "  She  laughs  at  me  for  my 
pains.  Every  wejek  or  so  she  drags  me.  down  town  to 
look  at  some  street  beggar  with  a  bad  heart,  a  fellow 
not  worth  a  penny  to  himself  or  to  anyone  else.  I 
never  get  paid  for  these  expeditions ;  neither  does  she. 
I  go  because  she  makes  me." 

"  Where  did  she  get  money  enough  k>  indulge  these 
fancies?"  John  inquired,  still  detaining  Deeming. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  the  doctor  replied.  "  She 
hasn't  any  money.     Not  what  you'd  call  any, — or  I, 

254 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

either,  for  that  matter,  though  my  standards  are  a  mil- 
hon  times  more  modest  than  yours.  She's  got  just 
enough  to  Hve  on,  hving  where  and  how  she  does. 
Then  her  patients  pay  her  now  and  then,  when  they 
feel  Hke  it.  You'd  better  cultivate  her  acquaintance,  if 
she'll  let  you.  She's  worth  the  trouble  and  the  expense. 
You'll  find  it  an  expense.  You'll  be  supporting  fifty  or 
a  hundred  children  pretty  soon,  if  you  see  much  of  her. 
But  it's  a  pleasant  way  of  wasting  your  money.  If  she 
asks  you  to  dinner  some  night,  in  the  odd  little  home 
she's  rigged  up  on  Albemarle  Street,  you'll  decide  your 
evening  was  worth  all  it  cost." 

*'  I  shall  have  to  see  her  again  about  this  question  of 
law  she  asked  me,"  John  said  craftily.  "  I  shall  tell 
her  I  bear  your  recommendation." 

"  I  shall  brag  to  her  myself,  sir,"  Deeming 
answered  in  high  good  humor  at  the  great  man's  con- 
descension, "  of  having  you  for  a  patient.  I  shall 
whisper  to  her  how  hard  I  find  it  to  manage  you,  and 
tell  her  she  may  have  part  of  my  fee  if  she  will  under- 
take to  subdue  you." 

"  Good !  "  John  assented,  dismissing  him.  "  I  shall 
regard  her  as  part  of  my  medical  retinue.  You  shall 
treat  my  body,  and  she  my  soul.  Between  the  two  of 
you,  no  doubt,  I  shall  rapidly  grow  reconciled  to 
death." 


VI 

As  John,  on  his  way  to  call  on  Margaret,  looked 
out  from  the  window  of  his  limousine,  he  experienced 
a  sense  of  surprise  at  the  unfamiliarity  of  the  section 
of  the  city  in  which  he  found  himself.  He  thought  he 
knew  his  city  as  few  men  knew  it.  Its  resources,  its 
possibilities,  its  political  conditions,  its  transportation 
facilities — all  these  features  of  its  life  were  at  his 
finger  tips ;  but  after  his  machine  had  left  the  business 
district  to  the  west  of  him,  it  seemed  to  him  as  though 
he  were  in  another  town — a  foreign  one.  He  was 
aware  of  a  social  life  overflowing  out  upon  the  side- 
walks, as  if  the  houses  were  too  small  to  care  for  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood.  Although  it  was 
a  bright,  sharp  winter  morning,  little  children  seemed 
to  make  a  playground  of  the  streets,  and  several  times 
the  chauffeur  stopped  the  car  with  a  sudden  jerk,  barely 
avoiding  injury  to  some  venturesome  dark-hued 
youngster.  Most  of  the  men  were  swarthy  and 
heavily  bearded,  and  when  John  could  overhear 
their  words,  the  accents  were  of  a  language  unfamiliar 
to  him.  He  found  it  all,  even  the  cobble-paved  street 
over  which  his  motor  car  jogged,  painfully  squalid,  but 
strikingly  picturesque.  There  seemed  more  of  color 
and  life  here  than  in  other  sections  of  Baltimore — ^less 
of  restraint     The  men  and  women  spoke  more  excit- 

256 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

edly, — gesticulated  more  freely.  At  the  hour  when 
they  should  have  been  at  work,  the  streets  seemed 
crowded  with  idlers.  They  gathered  here  and  there  in 
little  knots,  apparently  engaged  in  violent  discussion. 
Then  John  remembered  the  great  lock-out  in  the  gar- 
ment industry,  and  realized  that  the  working  activities 
of  these  people  were  paralyzed.  His  automobile,  pass- 
ing slowly  down  Albemarle  Street,  finally  came  to  a 
deliberate  stop  in  front  of  a  little  building,  whose  very 
exterior  formed  a  striking  contrast  to  its  neighbors. 
Girt  about  with  tall,  gaunt  structures  apparently  teem- 
ing with  tenement  dwellers,  this  little  house  was  low  in 
height,  and  trim — almost  dainty — in  its  outlines. 
Amid  the  unkempt  houses  on  all  sides,  shrieking  for 
repairs  and  for  the  vigorous  efforts  of  carpenter,  tin- 
ner and  glazier,  this  dwelling  was  characterized  by 
a  neatness  almost  bordering  on  affectation.  Its  win- 
dows were  not  only  brilliantly  transparent,  but  were 
shaded  by  soft,  white  hangings;  its  walls  were  arro- 
gant in  their  array  of  warm,  red  paint,  apparently 
of  recent  application.  Its  door  steps  were  spotlessly 
clean,  and  most  miraculous  of  all,  there  was  at  the 
side  of  the  house  a  little  patch  of  lawn — covered,  it 
was  true,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  with  last  week's 
snow,  but  absolutely  innocent  of  tin  cans  or  any  other 
form  of  rubbish.  The  entire  place  had  an  atmosphere 
of  its  own.  It  was  an  oasis  in  the  midst  of  this 
desert  of  congestion,  dirt  and  ugliness.     On  a  tiny 


THE  CONQUEST 

brass  plate  at  the  side  of  the  door  were  the  words 
"Dr.  Gilmor." 

The  chauffeur  assisted  John  to  ahght,  and  drove 
off  to  await  him  around  the  corner.  It  was  impos- 
sible for  the  big  automobile  to  stand  in  this  narrow 
thoroughfare  without  blocking  the  progress  of  the 
street  cars  which  rumbled  past  at  frequent  intervals. 

John  slowly  ascended  the  steps  and  rang  the  door 
bell.  A  little  maid,  whose  immaculate  attire  bore  a 
curious  resemblance  to  the  appearance  of  the  house 
itself,  ushered  him  into  a  crowded  reception-room. 
He  bade  her  tell  her  mistress  Mr.  Howard  had  called, 
but  that  he  preferred  to  see  her  after  she  had  dis- 
posed of  all  her  patients.  Then  he  seated  himself 
among  the  others  who  were  awaiting  their  oppor- 
tunity to  enter  Margaret's  consultation-room. 

The  room  in  which  he  sat  waiting,  for  consider- 
ably over  an  hour,  was,  like  the  rest  of  this  odd  house, 
beautiful  in  its  simplicity.  Its  walls  were  blue  and  its 
wood-work  white.  Excellent  reprints  of  celebrated 
paintings  were  hung  here  and  there.  On  the  table 
there  was  a  great  vase  filled  with  fragrant,  deep  red 
sweet-peas. 

John  speedily  became  acutely  conscious  of  the 
need  for  their  fragrance.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
room  were  in  painful  contrast  to  their  dainty  sur- 
roundings. In  one  corner  an  old  man,  with  a  long, 
gray  beard,  coughed  again  and  again,  in  paroxysms 

258 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

which  seemed  to  tear  his  very  soul.  Near  him  sat  a 
dejected,  shapeless  woman  whose  only  redeeming 
features  were  her  great,  dark,  pathetic  eyes.  She 
held  in  her  lap  a  pale,  scrawny,  little  baby,  who  now 
and  then  broke  into  a  feeble  wail,  only  to  be  hushed 
by  its  mother's  low  crooning  of  words  John  could 
not  comprehend,  set  to  a  cadence  not  melodious,  but 
nevertheless  somehow  beautiful  in  its  mournful  minor 
key.  There  were  other  women  too,  all  devoid  of 
grace  and  charm — slatternly,  seemingly  without  en- 
ergy or  hope,  and  there  were  children — so  many  chil- 
dren ! — each  with  some  sign  to  show  its  exclusion  from 
happy  rosy  childhood.  There  was  a  faint,  sickening, 
malodorous  atmosphere  pervading  the  room.  John 
knew  he  ought  to  be  swept  away  by  the  pathos  of  the 
situation,  but  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  conquer 
a  fastidious  repugnance  to  these  unwashed  creatures. 
They  were  in  misery  because  they  were  stupid.  He 
was  sorry  they  could  not  be  happy,  but  his  mind  re- 
volted at  the  idea  of  a  world  halting  in  its  progress 
to  give  them  opportunity  to  regain  their  places  in  its 
ranks. 

After  the  waiting-room  had  been  slowly  emptied, 
John  found  himself  at  last  in  Margaret's  office^ — a  spot- 
less, business-like  room,  all  made  up  of  white  tiles  and 
medical  appliances.  She  seemed  unaffectedly  glad  at  his 
presence,  and  with  more  happy  anticipations  than  he 
had  known*  since  the  hour  of  his  first  interview  with 

259 


THE  CONQUEST 

Deeming,  he  settled  himself  comfortably  for  a  long 
talk. 

"  You've  fitted  up  a  charming  little  harbor,  here, 
Margaret,"  he  began.  "  If  anything,  isn't  it  a  bit  too 
dainty  for  your  patients  ?  " 

"  It's  part  of  the  game,"  she  informed  him.  "  I 
try  to  make  it  everything  they  haven't  at  home.  I 
want  them  to  hunger  for  pretty  things  like  mine.  When 
they  want  them  enough,  maybe  they'll  get  them. 
Maybe ! "  she  repeated  doubtfully. 

He  nodded  in  token  of  comprehension.  Then  he 
asked:  *'Are  you  busy?  I  want  to  talk  to  you  end- 
lessly this  morning  about  '  ships  and  shoes  and  sealing 
wax  and  cabbages  and  kings.'  Since  I've  quit  work,  I 
can't  imagine  anyone  else  having  anything  really  im- 
portant to  do." 

She  smiled  cordially.  "  I'm  not  too  busy  to  talk 
to  you  as  long  as  you  want  me,"  she  assured  him.  "  I 
have  my  calls  to  make,  but  they'll  do  any  time  during 
the  day.     But  first  tell  me,  are  you  all  right  again?  " 

He  waved  aside  her  question  with  half  serious 
disdain.  "  Don't  let's  waste  time  talking  about  my 
abominable  body.  That's  Deeming's  job,  and  he  is 
handling  it  badly  enough.  I've  decided  to  employ  you 
as  an  auxiliary  doctor.  I  want  what  might  be  called 
conversational  X-ray  treatment." 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  said  interrogatively.  "  I  realize  you*ve 
said  something  clever,  but  I  don't  quite  understand  it. 

260 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

We  poor  women,  you  know,  have  no  sense  of  humor 
at  all.     Be  merciful  and  explain." 

"  I  really  have  a  meaning,"  he  answered.  "  There- 
fore, what  I  said  wasn't  clever.  I  need,  through  you, 
to  see  whaf  s  on  the  inside  of  things — things  which  to 
me  are  impenetrable.  You  seem  to  have  found  a 
method.    At  least,  it  works  for  yourself." 

'*  Sometimes,"  she  corrected.  "  However,  let's  try! 
Only  remember,  what  seems  to  me  Grospel  may  seem  to 
you  fanaticism." 

Her  words  recalled  their  stormy  conversation  at 
his  office,  and  he  hastened  to  deal  with  that  memory. 

"  We  said  some  harsh  things  to  each  other  last 
week,  Margaret.  I  suppose  I  wasn't  exactly  myself. 
You  and  I  must  never  do  that  again.  We're  at  a  last- 
ing peace  now,  aren't  we  ?  " 

She  smiled  tremulously  and  was  about  to  emphasize 
her  own  fault,  but  he  would  have  none  of  it. 

"  We  are  through  with  misunderstanding  each 
other,"  he  insisted.  "  What's  the  use  of  talking  about 
it?  Ever  since  that  morning  I've  been  thinking  of 
what  you  said  about  dying,  and  about  the  uselessness 
of  my  work." 

She  once  more  attempted  a  protest,  but  he  promptly 
silenced  her.  "  Don't  let's  be  polite,"  he  urged.  "  We'll 
never  get  anywhere  that  way.  We  can  differ  about 
things  without  liking  each  other  any  the  less.  Now 
here's  a  beginning  point:    To  deal  effectively  with 

261 


THE  CONQUEST 

death  one  has  to  have  some  definite  idea  about  life. 
You  think  all  my  work  has  been  a  feverish  activity 
regarding  externals,  and  Fm  coming  to  believe  you're 
right.  The  only  trouble  is  I  think  the  same  of  your 
work  and  most  everyone  else's.  That's  not  mere  petty 
pique.  I'm  trying  to  get  at  the  kernel  of  things.  I'd 
be  perfectly  willing,  for  the  last  days  of  my  pilgrim- 
age, to  try  philanthropy  or  social  service,  or  selling  all 
I  have  and  giving  it  to  the  poor,  or  even  socialism,  if 
I  could  see  the  logic  of  any  of  them.  Now  you  appar- 
ently have  some  scheme  of  living.  You  seem  somehow 
serene.    Will  you  tell  me  how  you  reached  this  state  ?  " 

"  Very  gladly,"  she  answered,  "  but  you  must  re- 
member I'm  a  woman.  I  live  on  my  emotions.  I  don't 
try  to  stifle  them.  I  cultivate  them,  and  water  them, 
and  give  them  light  and  air.  They  seem  to  me  de- 
liciously  feminine,  and  I  revel  in  being  feminine.  It 
disconcerts  all  my  dear  friend's,  who  growl  about 
women  in  the  professions,  merely  to  see  me  pour  tea." 

She  laughed  softly — a  rippling,  pleasant  laugh. 
John's  eyes  indicated  rather  too  clearly  that  he  also 
found  her  exceedingly  feminine.  But  when  her  laugh 
ended,  she  did  full  justice  to  the  gravity  of  his  question. 

"  You  speak  of  logic.  I  think  that's  where  we 
lack  a  common  ground.  Life,  it  seems  to  me,  must  of 
necessity  lack  logic.  The  growth  of  a  tree  is  not  logical. 
Its  branches  strike  off — here  and  there,  apparently  at 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

haphazard.     But  it's  beautiful — useful  too,  don't  you 
think?'' 

"  I  find  your  life  beautiful  this  morning,"  he  said 
quietly,  but  with  such  earnestness,  that  the  color  came 
into  her  cheeks.  He  seemed,  however,  delicately 
anxious  to  cause  her  no  embarrassment,  and  after  a 
minute,  he  continued :  "  Beautiful,  yes ;  useful  too,  per- 
haps, in  a  way,  but  as  you  yourself  say,  without  logic. 
I'm  afraid  I  must  have  logic.  Why  did  you  come 
down  here?    What  was  your  idea?" 

"  Well,"  she  thought  aloud,  with  a  merry  light  in 
her  eyes,  ''  there's  nothing  very  original  or  unusual  in 
it,  is  there?  These  days  every  angelic  heroine  of  fact 
or  popular  fiction,  failing  in  her  pursuit  of  an  elusive 
male,  foists  herself  upon  the  long-suffering  poor.  Per- 
haps it's  a  subtle  form  of  revenge.  This  country  is 
swarming  with  well-meaning  men  and  women,  who  feel 
a  holy  call  to  become  missionaries  in  their  own  city. 
Maybe,"  she  struck  in,  smiling  once  more,  "  they  realize 
subconsciously  they  can  make  the  sorrows  of  poverty 
imendurable,  and  thus  bring  them  to  an  end  one  way  or 
the  other." 

He  laughed  reproachfully.  "  You  said  you  had  no 
sense  of  humor.  You  aren't  following  the  lines  in  your 
own  comedy." 

"Ah,  but  I  have  no  logic,  either,"  she  retorted 
gaily.  "  You  can't  expect  me  to  play  the  same  role  all 
morning." 

^63 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  incorrigible,"  he  admitted. 
**  Well,  did  you,  too,  feel  this  holy  call  to  make  misery 
more  miserable  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  she  explained.  "  I  think  I  wanted 
most  to  become  a  missionary  to  the  missionaries.  Now 
don't  smile,"  she  ordered.  "  I'm  being  serious  now. 
I've  gone  back  to  the  first  character  in  my  repertoire. 
After  I  graduated  from  the  medical  school  here  at 
Johns  Hopkins,  I  went  to  New  Yort  I  practised 
among  rich  women.  Most  of  them  felt  an  impulse  to 
do  something  for  the  poor.  Something  that  wasn't 
much  trouble;  not  much  to  themselves,  I  mean.  I 
always  felt  sure  the  submerged  class  must  find  it 
amazingly  troublesome.  Well,  it  exasperated  me. 
Gradually  I  came  to  feel  what  the  poor  really  needed 
was  the  same  efficient  service  the  rich  can  buy.  I 
felt  it  vaguely,  not  very  clearly ;  so  I  talked  about  it  a 
great  deal  more  than  if  my  ideas  had  been  really 
straight  in  my  own  mind. 

"  Now,  there's  only  one  kind  of  work  I'm  really 
trained  to  do  properly.  That's  medicine.  It  seemed 
to  me  it  would  be  sensible,  instead  of  giving  tenement 
people  lectures  on  Botticelli,  to  give  them  decent 
medical  treatment.  Maybe  if  they  saw  they  were  get- 
ting that,  they'd  be  interested  to  learn  what  sort  of 
mental  and  moral  food  appealed  to  a  doctor  who  had 
sense  and  skill  enough  to  care  for  their  bodies.  It 
would  be  interesting,  too.     These  people  have  bones 

264 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

and  muscles  and  organs  curiously  like  those  of  your 
friends  uptown;  and  when  they  send  for  a  doctor,  it's 
usually  because  they  need  one.  I  rode  this  hobby  ruth- 
lessly whenever  I  talked  to  a  wealthy  patient  who  would 
listen  to  me.  I  was  less  feminine  in  those  days."  She 
smiled  at  him  again,  archly.  "  Fm  afraid,"  she  laughed, 
"  I  rode  the  hobby  astride. 

"  Well,  to  continue  this  autobiography,  I  had  one 
patient  who  was  very  old,  very  fat  and  disgustingly 
benevolent.  I  had  treated  her  with  much  profit  for 
some  twenty  or  so  ailments.  She  made  her  own  diag- 
nosis each  time,  and  a  cure  generally  resulted  when 
her  particular  disease  went  out  of  fashion.  She  pre- 
ferred to  be  on  the  point  of  death  on  the  second  and 
last  Wednesdays  of  each  month.  She  had  a  real  genius 
for  tantalizing  her  heirs.  Her  imagination  was  so 
vivid  that  she  finally  succeeded  in  deluding  her  own 
self  into  believing  I  had  miraculously  prolonged  her 
life.  I  couldn't  convince  her  to  the  contrary.  She  took 
all  my  tirades  anent  medical  service  among  the  poor 
with  absolute  seriousness — the  way  I  take  them  myself 
sometimes.  One  day  she  asked  me  why  I  didn't  prac- 
tice what  I  preached.  I  was  compelled  to  explain  my 
dependence  upon  ladies  like  herself  for  food  and  such 
unbecoming  attire  as  I  wear.  Why  don't  you  say  it 
isn't  unbecoming?    That  was  your  cue! 

"  She  wanted  to  know  if  I'd  do  this  work  if  I  could 
afford  it.    I  assured  her  passionately  of  my  sincerity. 

26s 


THE  CONQUEST 

I  could  do  that  without  much  soul-searching.  I  was 
full  of  cheerful  confidence  in  my  never-ending  poverty. 
I  never  could  keep  any  money.  Do  you  know,"  she 
interjected  suddenly,  '*  I  never  have  saved  up  again  at 
any  one  time,  in  all  these  years,  as  much  as  I  had  in 
the  Eutaw  Savings  Bank  that  last  winter  your  and  I 
lived  at  the  Hollins  Street  house  ?  " 

All  the  lightness  of  mood  suddenly  left  them  both, 
in  the  recollection  of  the  day  she  had  brought  her  bank- 
book to  him,  and  he  had  refused  with  such  tenderness 
to  take  her  money.  He  looked  at  her  wistfully,  with 
so  many  memories  and  regrets,  that  she  was  filled  with 
remorse  for  having  blundered  upon  this  dangerous 
subject. 

"  I  hurt  you  very  cruelly  that  winter,  didn't  I, 
Margaret?"  he  said  slowly.  "I  always  wanted  to 
explain " 

"  Don't  try  it  to-day !  "  she  interrupted  quickly. 

"  But  when,"  he  demanded,  "  will  you  let  me  talk 
to  you  of  those  days,  Margaret?  It  is  right — it  is 
necessary — for  both  of  us  to  understand,  before  it's 
too  late." 

"  Some  other  time,"  she  murmured,  "  not  now.  I 
was  telling  you  about  myself ;  this  silly  old  woman  took 
me  at  my  word.  She  told  me  she  would  leave  me,  at 
her  death,  enough  money  to  try  my  experiment,  and 
she  did.  She  willed  me  an  annuity.  You'd  think  it  a 
trifle,  but  it's  plenty  for  me.    She  was  cunning  enough 

266 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

to  arrange  it  so  it  will  always  be  paid  to  me  in  monthly 
instalments.  I  can't  get  my  hands  on  much  at  any 
one  time.  If  I  could,  the  whole  principal  would  be 
gone  in  six  months.  Then  I  came  home  to  put  my 
scheme  into  effect.  I  thought  Td  like  to  do  it  in  my 
own  city.  I've  been  at  the  work  now  for  six  years.  I 
like  it.  I  wouldn't  give  it  up  for  anything.  It's  good, 
hard  work,  and  it's  fun." 

"  Why  do  you  find  it  fun?  "  he  inquired,  trying  to 
pierce  to  the  heart  of  her  attitude  toward  life. 

"  For  one  thing,"  she  was  prompt  to  say,  "  I'm 
doing  work  in  a  virgin  field.  These  people  won't  go 
to  the  hospitals  in  time,  and  their  medical  conditions 
have  been  imspeakable.  They  used  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  untrained  blunderers  and  charlatans.  The 
treatment  they  get  from  me  is  unique.  I  can  see  re- 
sults,— and  for  another  thing,  I  have  gained  a  real 
authority  in  the  neighborhood.  They  like  me.  They 
usually  obey  my  most  arbitrary  orders.  You  ought  to 
understand  why  I  find  that  fun.  I'm  the  John  Howard 
of  Albemarle  Street,'*  she  finished  demurely. 

Her  smile  did  not  deflect  him  from  his  questioning. 
*'Ah,"  he  exclaimed  eagerly  and  with  a  touch  of  tri- 
umph in  his  voice,  "  it's  power,  then,  you  enjoy !  You 
are  moved  by  just  the  same  motive  as  the  rest  of  us?  " 

"  Yes,  and  no,"  was  her  guarded  admission.  "  If 
I  said  I  didn't  enjoy  power,  you'd  know  I  wasn't 
human,  or  wasn't  telling  the  truth.    The  issue  between 

267 


THE  CONQUEST 

us  is  clear.  You  have  treated  power  as  an  end  in 
kself.  For  me,  I  think,  it  has  only  been  a  means  to  an 
end." 

"  To  what  end  ?  "  was  his  next  query. 

"Why,  to  be  of  service;  to  relieve  suffering;  to 
make  men  and  women  happier."  It  seemed  perfectly 
clear  to  her.    Evidently  it  was  more  complex  to  him. 

"  Now  we're  getting  to  the  ropt  of  the  problem," 
was  his  puzzled  comment  "  You  help  others  to  be 
more  comfortable — happier — so  that  they  may  do, 
what?" 

She,  in  her  turn,  twisted  his  question  over  and  over 
in  her  mind.  Finally  she  said :  "  Isn't  it  enough  to 
know  they  are  happier?  " 

"  No,"  he  argued,  "  it  brings  you  straight  back  to 
your  beginning  point.  You're  simply  spreading  your 
usefulness  out  thin,  by  giving  it  to  others  instead  of 
concentrating  it  upon  yourself.  If  I  spend  my  life 
making  myself  comfortable  and  doing  what  interests 
me,  you  say  I'm  selfish  and  my  time  is  misspent;  but 
if  you  help  others  to  make  themselves  comfortable 
and  do  what  interests  them,  you've  done  by  proxy 
precisely  the  same  thing.  Only  by  doing  the  job  for 
oneself  it  gets  done  more  thoroughly.  I  did  it  thor- 
oughly ! 

"  Now  I  haven't  said  this  to  be  critical.  I  really 
want  to  know.  I  can't  tmderstand  the  validity  of  your 
theory,  unless  you're  willing  to  admit  happiness  to  be 

268 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

an  end  in  itself,  and  other  people^s  happiness  to  be 
virtuous  and  important,  while  our  own  is  negligible 
and  utterly  sinful.'* 

She  looked  at  him  blankly  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
she  gave  it  up  with  a  laugh. 

"  You're  a  very  clever  lawyer,"  she  said,  "  and  I'm 
only  a  doctor,  and  a  woman  doctor  at  that.  I  can't 
debate  with  you.  At.  college,  I  didn't  work  off  my  con- 
ditions in  logic  until  the  month  I  graduated.  But 
somehow  I'm  sure  you're  wrong.  It's  proved  by  your 
unhappiness  to-day.  There's  a  quality  in  serving  others, 
which  is  above  mere  reason."  She  broke  off  suddenly 
and  began  again.  "  You  haven't  any  religion,  have 
you,  John?  " 

"  Not  in  the  dogmatic  sense,"  he  replied.  "  I  be- 
lieve in  some  great  force  outside  of  ourselves.  I  be- 
lieve I'm  a  manifestation  of  that  force." 

She  nodded  understandingly.  "  That's  part  of  a 
religion,"  she  agreed,  "  but  don't  you  believe  the  force 
you  speak  of  includes  any  of  the  attributes  of  love?  " 

He  pondered  over  her  question  before  answering. 

"  I  see  no  ground  for  thinking  so,"  he  finally  de- 
cided. 

"  Then  I  don't  see  how  either  of  us  is  going  to 
adopt  the  other's  viewpoint.  It's  a  pity  you  haven't 
more  religion.  Even  if  it's  purely  home-made,  it  makes 
things  easy." 

"  Dying,  you  think?  "  was  his  query. 
269 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  Dying  more  than  anything  else,"  she  responded. 

"Do  you  think  it's  sincere  at  the  very  end?"  he 
persisted.  "  Don't  they  falter  and  wonder  if  they 
haven't  been  deluded,  after  all  ?  " 

"  Not  often,"  she  continued  to  assert.  "  I've 
watched  it  thousands  of  times.  And  you've  put  me 
in  mind  of  the  very  thing  I've  been  groping  around  to 
tell  you.  The  secret  of  happy  living  and  triumphant 
dying  is  an  enthusiasm — an  enthusiasm  stronger  than 
the  fear  of  death.  Any  kind  will  do,  if  you  can  fill 
yourself  full  of  it.  With  some  it's  religion;  with  some 
it's  socialism — trade  unionism — patriotism — family 
love — ^sex  love.  Think  of  the  myriads  of  foolish  things 
martyrs  have  lived  and  died  for — happy  that  the  op- 
portunity came  to  them.  It's  got  nothing  to  do  with 
logic.  Your  mistake  was  in  thinking  men  and  women 
can  live  on  dry  theories.  You  forgot  we  are  a  bundle 
of  emotions.  Your  enthusiasm,  so  far  as  you  had  one, 
was  for  commercial  power,  but  it  was  a  product  of 
your  wonderful  brain.  Its  grip  on  you  was  almost 
altogether  mental  and,  therefore,  it  wasn't  strong 
enough.  If  it  had  been,  it  would  have  carried  you 
through  to  the  end.  It  didn't.  Now  you've  got  to  get 
another." 

He  sat  there,  weighing  her  words  thoughtfully — 
so  thoughtfully,  that  presently  she  felt  impelled  to 
rouse  him  from  his  deep  study. 

"  You  see,"  she  resumed  lightly,  "  I'm  giving  you 

270 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

an  index  to  my  own  mind.  I  began  by  saying  I  couldn*t 
answer  your  question,  so  I  now  proceed  to  instruct  you 
instead.  I  think  I  make  my  life  easy  by  trying  to 
teach  the  things  Fd  otherwise  have  to  learn." 

"  But  you're  happy/'  he  reflected.  "At  least,  you're 
not  actively  unhappy,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  becoming  thoughtful  m  her  turn. 
*'  I  believe  I'm  unusually  happy.  Of  course,  I  know 
my  life  isn't  a  normal  one.  I  told  you  I'm  feminine. 
If  you'll  swear  never  to  tell  a  soul,  particularly  Dr. 
Deeming,  I'll  confess  to  feeling,  in  my  heart,  no  woman 
ought  to  do  such  work  as  mine,  unless  she  can't  have  a 
home  and  children  of  her  own.  At  best,  it's  merely 
an  acceptable  substitute.  But,"  she  added,  shaking  off 
her  sombreness,  "  if  I  had  a  home,  husband  and  chil- 
dren, no  doubt  I'd  be  mad  to  throw  them  all  aside  and 
run  off  to  a  labor  meeting." 

He  felt  sure  he  knew  the  thought — the  intimate 
thought — which  lay  beneath  her  rather  forced  gaiety. 
It  was  his  opportunity  to  approach  once  more  the  sub- 
ject of  his  conduct  of  a  score  of  years  before.  But 
she  was  too  quick  for  him.  Perhaps  she  read  his  in- 
tention. Anyhow,  she  suggested  hurriedly,  *'  Talking 
of  labor  meetings,  there's  to  be  one  at  the  union  head- 
quarters this  noon.  Wouldn't  you  like  me  to  take 
you?" 

"  Not  to-day,"  he  replied,  "  next  time.  To-day,  I 
haven't  time.    I'm  going  from  here  to  employ  Russell 

271 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  take  charge  of  your  celebrated  case.  I  want  to  go 
over  the  record  with  him.  I  can  give  him  some  valu- 
able hints,  and  anyhow,  IVe  wasted  enough  of  your 
time  for  this  session.  Only  before  I  go  I'd  like  to 
ask  you  one  thing  more.  You  think  I  need  an  en- 
thusiasm— no  matter  what,  if  it  is  stronger  than  death 
itself.  That  sounds  sensible  to  me,  except  that  such 
emotions  are  not  found  merely  because  one  needs  them. 
Can't  you  suggest  any  ?  " 

**  *  Therein  the  patient  must  minister  unto  him- 
self,' "  she  quoted.  "  Now  tell  me,  wouldn't  you  feel 
as  silly  dressed  up  in  one  of  my  enthusiasms,  as  in  one 
of  my  skirts?" 

As  he  rose  to  go,  he  looked  full  into  her  laughing, 
yet  kind  and  intelligent  eyes. 

"  I  could  develop  an  enthusiasm  for  you,  Margaret, 
if  you'd  let  me,"  he  declared,  without  a  smile.  "  I 
don't  even  believe  it  needs  developing." 

For  a  perceptible  space  of  time,  she  stood  silent 
and  rigid.  What  she  might  be  thinking — whether  she 
was  angry  or  sorrowful,  he  could  not  guess.  Then  she 
relaxed  once  more  into  her  pleasant  smile. 

"  I'm  forty,  John !  "  she  announced  with  mock  de- 
spair, "  forty !  Old  enough  to  kill  any  man's  enthu- 
siasm. Old  enough  to  have  a  daughter  of  the  precise 
age  I  was  when  you  first  knew  me.  Begin  with  a 
younger  enthusiasm,  and  come  here  again  to  tell  me 
of  it!" 

272 


VII 

During  the  few  weeks  following,  John  allowed 
himself  to  drift  into  the  pleasant  habit  of  a  daily  call 
at  the  Albemarle  Street  office.  At  first  he  came  primed 
with  plausible  pretences.  There  were  little  questions 
regarding  the  appeal  he  found  advisable  to  discuss 
with  her,  although  she  noticed  he  always  decided  what 
should  be  done  without  much  reference  to  her  views. 
Later,  he  ceased  to  make  any  excuses  whatsoever.  He 
wanted  to  see  her.  She  never  failed  to  give  him  a 
hearty  welcome.  It  was  enough.  He  wondered  at 
his  own  blindness  in  having  allowed  all  these  years  to 
slip  past  without  having  made  some  effort  to  find  out 
what  had  become  of  her.  He  did  not  stop  to  think  how 
little  she  would  have  attracted  him,  or  he  himself 
proved  acceptable  to  her,  during  the  days  of  his  troubled 
reign. 

Meanwhile,  the  preparation  of  the  appeal  went 
badly.  Russell,  somewhat  astonished  at  John's  interest 
in  a  case  of  this  character,  but  stimulated  by  the  size 
of  his  retaining  fee,  bent  to  his  task  in  a  workmanlike 
fashion,  but  he  was  frankly  hopeless  of  success.  The 
question  involved  was  at  best  a  doubtful  one.  The 
awkward  Schwartzman,  in  trying  the  case  in  the  court 
below,  had  unfailingly  done  each  thing  he  should  not 
have  done,  and  left  undone  each  thing  he  should  have 

273 


THE  CONQUEST 

attempted.  Therefore,  the  record  Was  encumbered 
with  a  host  of  petty  legal  obstacles,  which  seemed  to 
obscure  completely  the  main  issue.  It  would  require 
a  brief,  and  an  argument  marked  by  a  masterly  gift 
for  emphasizing  the  essentials,  and  brushing  aside  the 
debris  of  the  case,  merely  to  present  the  principal  ques- 
tion to  the  court.  Russell  even  took  the  trouble  to 
write  a  letter  to  John,  setting  forth  his  views  and  ex- 
pressing a  willingness  at  any  time  to  withdraw  from 
his  employment.  He  desired  to  exclude  any  possibility 
of  being  criticised  for  having  permitted  the  indulgence 
of  a  false  confidence.  John  was  disgusted.  That 
was  no  spirit  in  which  to  enter  a  case.  Yet  there  was 
no  one  more  suitable  for  the  task.  Gushing  was  too 
young.  He  could  perhaps  argue  the  appeal  better  than 
Russell,  but  John  felt  sure  a  position  as  radical  as  the 
one  contended  for  would  find  favor  more  readily  if 
presented  by  an  advocate  of  known  conservatism  and 
commercial  importance.  Russell  had  such  a  reputa- 
tion and  was,  besides,  a  sane,  well-seasoned  lawyer. 
In  John's  opinion,  he  was  devoid  of  imagination,  but  he 
was  forced  to  accept  him  for  lack  of  someone  more 
available. 

Things  were  at  this  pass,  one  bleak  February  morn- 
ing, when  John's  motor  car  drew  up  at  the  Albemarle 
Street  door.  He  was  surprised  to  meet  Margaret  her- 
self, dressed  for  the  street,  and  about  to  leave  her 
office,  in  apparent  haste. 

274 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

"  I  must  rush  away  without  stopping  this  morn- 
ing," she  informed  him  hurriedly.  "  I've  been  'phoned 
for.  They  need  me  at  the  Union  headquarters.  There's 
to  be  a  big  mass  meeting." 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  he  suggested. 

She  shook  her  head  decisively.  "  Not  this  morn- 
ing," she  said.  "  I'm  afraid  there's  trouble  brewing. 
Besides,  you  oughtn't  to  walk  so  far,  and  in  the  present 
state  of  affairs,  it  would  be  better  for  anyone  to  stay 
away  than  to  ride  to  the  hall  in  a  five-thousand-dollar 
car. 

He  promptly  took  her  arm,  and  with  a  full  measure 
of  his  old  dominance,  began  to  guide  her  steps  north- 
ward toward  Baltimore  Street. 

"If  there's  trouble  in  sight,  you've  no  business  there 
yourself,"  he  observed.  "  Certainly  you've  no  right 
to  go  there  unprotected." 

In  spite  of  her  anxiety,  she  looked  up  at  him  and 
laughed  at  his  calm  assurance  of  an  ability  to  guard 
her  from  these  neighbors  she  could  manage  so  much 
better  than  any  mere  man. 

"  You  men,"  was  her  saucy  comment,  "  get  a  lot 
of  happiness  out  of  your  recollections  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Don't  you?  It's  not  that  kind  of  trouble  I'm 
worried  about.  The  garment-workers  won't  hurt  me — 
nor  you,  either,  if  you're  with  me.  But  something 
dreadful  has  happened  this  morning.  Aaron  Shapiro 
has  deserted  the  Union.     He's  gone  back  to  the  Alpha 

27S 


THE  CONQUEST 

factory  to  be  foreman  over  the  '  scabs/  I  suppose 
you've  never  heard  me  talk  about  Shapiro,  so  you 
don't  know  why  that  should  make  much  difference  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  negatively,  and  she  explained: 
"  Shapiro  was  what  you  would  call  the  executive  secre- 
tary. He  was  the  soul  of  the  fight.  It  was  he  who 
collected  the  contributions  from  labor  sympathizers  and 
from  out-of-town  '  locals.'  He  doled  out  all  the  relief 
money.  He  had  a  genius  for  knowing  which  of  our 
men  had  to  have  help,  and  which  ones  had  brothers- 
in-law  or  cousins  who  could  be  bullied  into  caring  for 
them.  He  encouraged  the  men  and  women  to  endure 
their  sufferings.  He  had  really  developed  the  qualities 
of  leadership.  He  had  the  whole  situation  at  his  finger- 
tips. He  speaks  and  writes  English  fluently,  and  with 
a  rude  sort  of  vigor." 

"  He  wrote  that  advertisement  which  caused  all 
the  trouble,  I  presume?  "  John  suggested  dryly. 

"  Yes,  he  wrote  that  too,  and  spread  it  all  over  the 
country,"  she  answered.  "  It  did  the  work,  didn't  it? 
The  employers  themselves  said  in  court  it  caused  them 
a  loss  of  over  three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Well, 
they've  bought  him.  He's  gone  back.  He's  left  his 
comrades  to  starve.  I'm  afraid  the  Union  will  col- 
lapse now,  but  what  worries  me  most  is  that  at  the 
end  the  men  may  do  something  violent.  Perhaps  it  will 
be  to  Shapiro;  maybe  to  the  factories  or  the  'scabs.' 
I'm  on  my  way  to  stop  them  if  I  can.    Now  you  see  I'm 

276 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

in  no  danger,  so  you'd  better  go  back  to  your  car.  It 
will  be  exciting,  and  excitement  is  bad  for  you." 

He  didn't  relish  his  role  as  a  sheltered  invalid,  even 
though  her  words  were  full  of  solicitude  for  him  and 
contained  no  hint  of  contempt. 

"  It  won't  excite  me  if  you're  in  no  danger,"  he 
informed  her  promptly.  "  You  forget  I  don't  share 
your  feeling  about  the  Union.  For  me  your  meeting 
will  merely  be  the  close  of  a  long  fight — selfish  on  both 
sides — a  fight  in  which  I  happen  not  to  be  enlisted." 

"  Now,  you're  not  going  to  be  horrid  when  I'm  so 
terribly  bothered!  If  you  can't  help  being  cynical, 
don't  tell  me  about  it.  These  people  are  mine.  I've 
looked  after  them  when  they  were  sick.  I  helped  to 
bring  their  babies  into  the  world.  I  can't  see  them 
rush  into  danger  of  prison  or  worse,  without  feeling 
serious  about  it." 

He  nodded  and  smiled  gravely,  to  indicate  his 
imderstanding. 

"  I'm  not  cynical,"  he  told  her.  "If  you  felt  any 
other  way,  you  wouldn't  be  Margaret  Gilmor.  That 
would  be  a  real  calamity.  But  why  must  you  meddle, 
as  you  do,  every  day,  in  these  vulgar  squabbles  over  a 
few  miserable  dollars?  You  say,  yourself,  medicine  is 
the  only  thing  you  really  are  trained  to  know.  It's  one 
of  the  ugliest  of  the  country's  problems — this  labor 
question — and  yet  you  insist  on  rushing  into  the  thick 
of  it  and  taking  sides,  without  any  careful  study  of 

277 


THE  CONQUEST 

its  complexities.  If  anyone  began  practising  your  art 
in  this  slipshod  manner,  you'd  be  the  first  to  protest." 

"  I'll  tell  you,  if  you  really  want  to  know,"  she 
replied  belligerently,  "  why  I'm  always  meddling,  as 
you  put  it,  with  labor  troubles,  and  always  on  the  side 
of  the  laborer,  even  when  he's  wrong,  as  he  often  is. 
It's  just  because  I  am  a  doctor.  I  tell  these  people 
they  must  eat  better  food  and  breathe  fresh  air  and  not 
sleep  four  or  more  in  one  room.  I'm  wasting  my 
words,  because  they  can't  afford  to  do  better.  What's 
the  use  of  giving  them  drugs?  Even  if  I  cure  them, 
the  same  causes  of  their  disease  are  there,  waiting  for 
the  next  chance.  Food,  air  and  housing  all  boil  down 
to  mere  wages.  I  want  them  to  have  more  wages, 
whether  the  industry  can  afford  it  or  not.  If  it  can't 
run  without  crippling  men  in  such  numbers,  it  should 
break  down!  What's  industry  for  anyhow,  if  it  isn't 
for  men  ?  " 

The  frosty  air  and  Margaret's  vehemence  brought 
a  glow  into  her  cheeks.  She  made  an  attractive  pict- 
ure, as  she  paused  on  the  street  corner  to  conclude  her 
declaration  of  the  sacred  rights  of  labor.  There  was 
no  opportunity  for  John  to  point  out  the  fallacies  of 
her  argument.  They  were  now  opposite  the  hall»  and 
the  sidewalk  was  congested  with  men  and  women,  talk- 
mg  in  loud,  angry  tones.  They  were  of  many  races, 
creeds  and  tongues,  and  in  spite  of  their  poverty,  the 
costumes  of  the  women  were  full  of  contrasts  of  gaudy 

278 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

colors,  lending  a  harsh  vividness  to  their  appearance. 
Most  of  them  were  American-born  sons  and  daughters 
of  foreign  parents,  but  there  were  many  Jews  and 
Italians,  who  appeared  to  have  lived  only  a  few  years 
in  America.  There  was  also  a  sprinkling  of  Poles, 
Lithuaniansj  and  Americans  of  native-bom  stock  in 
the  throng.  Many  of  the  workers  spoke  to  Margaret 
as  she  passed,  indicating  in  their  words  and  manner 
how  confidently  they  counted  her  as  one  of  themselves. 
Several  times  her  progress  was  intercepted  by  troubled- 
looking  men,  who  asked  what  could  be  done  in  this 
crisis,  or  suggested  timidly  their  fears  of  some  serious 
disturbance.  As  she  and  John  paused  in  the  narrow 
doorway  leading  into  the  assembly  hall,  they  overheard 
a  fierce,  violent  sentence,  spoken  in  a  language  im- 
known  to  John,  by  a  short,  sallow  man,  with  burning, 
excited  eyes.  John  caught  only  the  word  "  Shapiro  " 
and  an  expression  of  coarse  blasphemy,  evidently  a 
common  factor  in  all  dialects.  Instinctively  he  at- 
tempted to  draw  Margaret  aside,  but  she  went  straight 
up  to  the  speaker  and  addressed  him  in  his  own  tongue, 
gently  and  in  apparent  entreaty.  John  noticed  the  beau- 
tiful music  of  her  voice,  more  perceptibly  than  he 
would,  had  he  been  able  to  comprehend  her  words. 

*' What  language  were  you  speaking?"  he  asked 
eagerly,  as  the  man  turned  away  silenced,  but  evidently 
not  satisfied,  "and  what  did  you  tell  him?" 

"  It  was  Yiddish,"  she  answered.  "  I  begged  him 
279 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  try  to  think  of  Shapiro  less  bitterly.  What  he  did 
was  base  and  treacherous,  of  course,  but  the  poor  fel- 
low has  a  wife  who  is  going  to  die,  I'm  afraid,  and  a 
new  little  son,  who  will  die,  too,  unless  we  can  save  the 
mother.  I  suppose  he  felt  he  just  had  to  have  some 
money.     I  thought  maybe  these  people  didn't  know." 

"  Did  he  answer  you?  "  John  demanded. 

"  No,"  she  told  him,  "  but  I  heard  him  mutter,  as 
he  went  off,  that  he  had  a  wife  and  babies,  too.  It 
looks  bad." 

When  John  and  Margaret  seated  themselves  in  the 
long,  low-ceilinged  hall  of  the  squat,  ugly  building,  the 
most  unpracticed  eye  could  have  detected  how  ominous 
the  situation  did  seem.  The  room  was  blue  with  the 
smoke  of  cheap,  rank  tobacco,  and  within  a  minute  or 
two  after  their  entrance,  it  was  filled  almost  to  the 
point  of  suffocation  by  a  dense  host  of  the  laborers 
and  their  wives  and  friends.  It  wasn't  a  real  Union 
meeting,  Margaret  explained.  It  was  in  the  nature  of 
a  neighborhood  mass  meeting. 

John  feared  he  might  find  it  impossible  to  under- 
stand the  dialects  of  the  speakers,  but  Margaret  reas- 
sured him.  English  would  predominate.  Nearly  all 
of  them  who  came  to  meetings  understood  it,  even  if 
they  spoke  it  imperfectly.  It  was  only  those  few  who 
could  speak  nothing  but  their  native  tongue,  who  might 
make  use  of  foreign  languages.  She  herself  always 
used  English  in  talking  to  these  large  polyglot  gather- 

280 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

ings,  though  she  was  able  to  make  herself  understood 
in  Yiddish  or  Italian.  More  of  them,  she  had  found, 
could  comprehend  her  meaning,  than  if  she  used  an- 
other language.  She  had  discovered,  when  addressing 
a  meeting  in  Yiddish  or  Italian,  while  one  group  would 
understand  her  perfectly,  most  of  the  others  in  the 
audience  would  gather  no  idea  at  all  of  what  she  was 
saying. 

As  they  looked  about  the  hall,  they  noted  an  entire 
absence  of  smiles  or  laughter.  The  men  seemed  to  be 
feverishly  excited,  yet  quiet,  with  that  fierce,  ugly 
inaction  which  forebodes  a  coming  storm.  The  few 
whispers  which  could  be  overheard  were  of  bitter 
hatred  of  the  renegade  Shapiro.  For  the  time,  all 
enmity  against  the  factory  owners  seemed  to  be 
drowned  in  their  fury  against  the  man  who  had  led 
them  on,  only  to  betray  them  at  the  end. 

The  meeting  began  formally  when  a  venerable  old 
man,  whose  white  beard  reached  far  down  upon  his 
breast,  arose  and  spoke  long  and  sorrowfully.  He 
talked  Yiddish  and  apparently  a  large  proportion  of 
his  audience  failed  completely  to  tmderstand  him.  Here 
and  there  some  swarthy  interpreter  would  explain  in 
broken  English  to  a  group  of  non- Jewish  neighbors, 
the  burden  of  his  discourse.  Not  that  it  was  really 
necessary.  He  was  telling  one  of  the  oldest  and  sad- 
dest stories  known  to  man.  How  they  had  come  to 
love  this  brilliant  youth  and  to  follow  him;  how  the 

281 


THE  CONQUEST 

path  he  pointed  out  was  a  road  of  suffering  and  despair ; 
how  many  of  them  had  seen  dear  ones  sink  down  and 
die  by  the  wayside,  but  under  his  inspiration,  had  dried 
their  tears  and  rejoined  the  ranks;  he  spoke,  too,  of 
their  trust  in  him ;  of  their  willingness  to  let  him  think 
and  act  for  them,  so  that  now  they  hardly  knew  their 
own  plan  of  campaign.  Then,  with  sobs  in  his  voice, 
he  told  them  of  their  leader's  treachery,  his  abandon- 
ment of  them  to  their  doom;  his  indifference  to  their 
fate,  now  that  he  had  escaped  the  dangers  which  only 
yesterday  he  had  commanded  them  to  endure  without 
flinching. 

When  he  sat  down,  many  of  the  audience  were  in 
tears.  John  himself,  somewhat  of  a  fastidious  con- 
noisseur of  speech,  and  able  to  understand  only  such 
words  as  were  of  German  origin,  fell  unwillingly  under 
the  spell  of  the  pathetic  old  man  and  his  wailing  story 
of  dissolution  and  despair.  The  squalor,  the  disorder, 
and  above  all,  the  dirt  and  stench  in  the  crowded  room 
were  grossly  repellent  to  him,  but  here  somehow  was 
poetry,  clad  in  hideous  unkempt  rags,  and  he  had  no 
choice  but  to  pay  it  tribute. 

The  next  speaker  was  an  Italian,  whose  sentences 
came  in  short,  violent  bursts  like  stiletto  stabs.  The 
note  of  pathos  was  less  apparent  here.  His  emphasis 
was  one  of  blind  fury.  The  word  ''  tr  adit  ore  "  was 
repeated  again  and  again,  and  though  few  understood 
his  speech,  everyone  knew  he  was  calling  down  upon 

282 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

the  perjured  deserter  the  vengeance  of  an  outraged 
heaven. 

The  next  man  to  rise  was  an  American — a  long, 
thin  man,  with  a  keen,  hatchet  face.  He  spoke  briefly 
and  with  hard,  practical  common-sense.  This  fellow 
Shapiro  had  played  them  a  dirty  trick.  There  was  no 
doubt  about  that.  But  there  was  also  no  use  in  crying 
over  spilled  milk.  They'd  had  a  winter  worse  than 
any  he  could  remember  in  all  his  years.  This  blow, 
coming  now,  was  the  last  straw.  They — including 
himself,  he  admitted  good-humoredly — had  been  fools 
enough  to  let  Shapiro  take  charge  of  everything.  It 
was  impossible  to  go  on  with  the  fight  now.  It  would 
have  ended  soon,  even  if  Shapiro  had  stuck  to  his 
guns.  He  finished  his  speech  by  moving  that  the  men 
be  allowed  to  go  back  to  work  as  individuals  and  no 
longer  as  members  of  the  Union,  if  the  employers  would 
take  them. 

"If  any  man's  got  a  better  idea,"  he  concluded, 
"  I'm  willing  to  take  my  chance  with  him.  I  can  stand 
punishment  as  long  as  any  other  man.  I've  got  no  wife 
and  kids  like  most  of  you.  But  I  can't  see  how  you're 
going  to  get  anywhere  by  sticking  out  any  longer.  The 
scabs  are  learning  our  jobs.  Soon  we  won't,  any  of 
us,  get  them,  even  when  we  ask." 

He  sat  down,  and  dead  silence  followed.  He  had 
said  what  all  of  them  knew,  but  hated  to  admit.  Finally, 
in  halting  English,  a  Pole  seconded  the  motion.    John 

283 


THE  CONQUEST 

turned  to  glance  at  Margaret.  She  was  pale  and  her 
lips  were  tightly  compressed.  She  was  suffering  real 
pain.  She  had  made  this  Union's  cause  her  own,  and 
now  it  lay  dying  before  her  eyes. 

Suddenly,  however,  before  a  vote  could  be  taken,  a 
young  man  sprang  upon  the  platform.  He  did  not  seem 
to  belong  among  this  throng.  He  bore  no  marks  of 
famine  or  privation.  Margaret  whispered  to  John  how 
sorry  she  was  to  see  him.  His  name  was  Lormer,  and 
if  he  had  any  permanent  home,  it  was  in  New  York. 
He  was  an  American  by  birth,  though  his  parents  were 
foreign,  and  he  gloried  in  being  known  everywhere 
as  a  fire-brand.  He  believed  passionately  in  the  rights 
of  the  poor  as  against  those  of  the  rich,  and  young  as 
he  was,  had  more  than  once  tasted  prison  fare  for 
preaching  and  living  the  doctrine  of  revolt.  Wher- 
ever there  was  industrial  strife,  he  was  to  be  found, 
teaching  the  dogma  of  rebellion  by  force.  His  restless 
energy  might  have  brought  him  fame  and  wealth,  if 
he  would  have  put  it  into  harness,  but  such  as  his  views 
were,  he  clung  to  them  with  the  fervor  and  self-sacrifice 
of  a  religious  martyr. 

He  was  greeted  with  a  thunder  of  applause,  but  he 
held  up  his  hand  for  silence. 

"  Fellow  slaves  of  the  tyrants  of  Capital,"  he  called 
in  his  strident,  penetrating  voice,  "  what's  all  this  sur- 
prise about  ?  Because  you've  lost  your  fight  ?  Because 
your  masters  have  bought  back  one  of  their  fugitive 

284 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

slaves?  You  might  have  known  what  was  going  to 
happen  from  the  first.  What  fools  you  are  to  let  your 
masters  choose  the  weapons  you  must  fight  them  with. 
There  is  only  one  way  you  can  get  your  rights.  That's 
by  taking  them.  There're  more  of  us  than  of  the  bosses. 
That's  why  they  shriek  when  you  talk  of  fighting  for 
your  rights.  Fighting's  all  right  when  they  need  you 
to  snatch  some  money  and  land  from  a  foreign  country ; 
then  it's  war  and  patriotism.  If  you  want  them  for 
yourself,  it's  riot  and  murder.  If  you  want  your  just 
dues  from  them,  they  tell  you  you  must  fight  with 
money  and  law,  because  they're  in  the  majority  when 
you  count  money,  and  they  make  the  law  and  own  the 
courts.  Look  what  they  did  to  you  with  their  law! 
Everyone  of  you  who  owns  a  home  or  a  little  bank 
account  can  hand  it  over  to  your  boss.  What  does  a 
slave  want  with  a  home? 

"  Oh,  but  you  took  an  appeal,  didn't  you,  to  waste 
a  little  faster  the  few  dollars  left  in  your  treasury.  The 
eight  judges  of  your  Appeal  Court  are  sitting  on  their 
bench  laughing  till  their  sides  ache,  while  they  wait  to 
get  hold  of  your  appeal.  Don't  you  see  how  you  play 
into  the  hands  of  the  men  who  use  you  to  fill  their 
money-bags,  and  to  save  themselves  and  their  worth- 
less, idle  women  from  earning  the  bread  you  can't  be 
sure  of,  even  by  working  till  you  die?  You  have  to 
plead  for  a  chance  to  slave  for  them.     It  would  be  a 

28s 


THE  CONQUEST 

joke,  if  you  weren't  starving,  and  if  you  hadn't  let 
your  little  kids  die. 

"  Well,  your  game's  up  for  this  time !  Your- Union's 
dead.  Each  of  you  can  go  back  and  beg  for  a  job,  so 
you  can  save  up  enough  money  to  pay  off  the  judg- 
ments against  you.  Next  time,  maybe,  you'll  get  some 
sense  and  begin  by  using  the  weapons  God  gave  you, 
instead  of  those  provided  by  your  bosses.  But  one 
thing  you  can  do  before  you  start  off  to  ask  for  your 
place  in  the  chain  gang  at  the  factories.  You  can 
give  the  capitalists  a  taste  of  the  misery  you've  suf- 
fered. You  can  show  them  that  even  when  you  lose 
a  fight,  you  can  leave  some  scars.  You  can  punish  this 
damned  traitor  Shapiro  so  no  one  will  ever  play  such 
a  trick  on  you  again.  You  can  teach  the  scabs  they 
can't  come  down  here  and  steal  honest  men's  bread, 
without  some  risk  to  their  precious  hides.  You  can 
do  it  all  in  one  day,  comrades,  more  than  you  did  in 
all  these  weeks !  " 

He  paused  suddenly,  and  began  again  in  a  lower 
pitch :  "  Some  of  you  may  get  hurt.  Some  of  you 
may  go  to  prison.  I've  been  there.  You're  just  as 
much  in  prison  here,  and  all  the  time,  as  you  would 
be  in  that  big  gray  building  along  side  of  the  Falls. 
As  for  hurts,  a  shot  doesn't  hurt  as  much  as  watch- 
ing your  child  ^et  sick  a^d  die  because  you  can't  feed 
It.  You've  been  tlircrugh  hell,  men!  Let  the  others 
have  a  taste  of  it!     I  don't  ask  any  man  to  take  a 

286 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

risk  I  won't  take.  Let  the  women  and  the  cowards  sit 
still  or  go  home.  If  there  are  any  men  here,  let  them 
get  up  and  come  with  me !  " 

The  hall  seemed  to  rock  with  the  stampede  which 
followed.  Men  shieked  their  approval  and  their  wil- 
lingness to  be  led.  Hats  were  thrown  into  the  air. 
Some  women  cried  out  in  terror;  others  were  urging 
on  their  men  to  vengeance. 

Margaret,  pale  as  a  sheet,  but  taut  with  resolution, 
rapidly  forced  her  way  to  the  platform.  John,  com- 
pletely forgotten  by  her,  stood  at  its  foot.  She  held 
up  her  hand  for  silence,  but  for  once  her  power 
seemed  lost.  There  were  confused  and  discordant 
cries  in  many  languages. 

"  It's  a  man's  job,"  John  heard  Lormer's  voice 
calling  dhove  the  others.  ''  Take  the  woman  away !  " 
A  burly  Lithuanian  gently,  but  resistlessly,  picked  up 
Margaret  bodily  in  his  arms,  and  lifted  her  from  the 
platform  to  the  floor  at  John's  side. 

"  Form  in  line  outside ! "  Lormer's  voice  cried 
again. 

"It's  a  man's  job,"  John  repeated  to  Margaret. 
He  was  suddenly  caught  in  the  grip  of  forces  in  which 
he  himself  did  not  for  one  minute  believe.  "  He's  right : 
it  is  a  man's  job!  It's  mine,  by  God!"  It  was  a 
strange  name  for  him  to  give  to  the  "great  force  out- 
side of  ourselves,"  in  which  he  had  some  doubtful 
faith,  but  he  had  no  time  to  think  of  what  was  pass- 

287 


THE  CONQUEST 

ing  in  his  mind.     He  sprang  toward  the  platform. 
Margaret  caught  his  arm  and  held  him  tightly. 

"  Keep  still,"  she  commanded,  absolutely  rough  in 
her  excitement  and  fear.     "  You'll  kill  yourself !  " 

He  shook  her  off  with  an  equal  forgetfulness  of 
niceties.  "  I  don't  care  if  I  do !  The  fools !  It's 
absurd !  They  shall  do  things  my  way.  I'll  show  them 
who's  master !  " 

A  second  later  he  was  on  the  platform.  An  enor- 
mous ledger  was  lying  on  the  table,  and  he  lifted  it 
aloft,  parallel  with  the  floor,  and  let  it  fall  with  a 
great,  sudden  crash.  It  sounded  on  the  hollow  floor- 
ing of  the  stage  like  the  beat  of  a  tremendous  drum. 
For  a  second  everyone  stopped  and  turned,  and  in 
that  second,  John  Howard — sometime  master  of  cap- 
italists, and  now,  without  logic — determined  on  be- 
coming master  of  mobs,,  sent  his  vibrant  voice  out  into 
the  hall. 

"  One  minute !  "  he  began.  "  I'll  only  keep  you 
a  minute!  I  come  to  you  with  a  very  important 
message.'' 

Lormer  made  an  effort  to  interrupt,  but  the  pres- 
ence of  this  tall,  distinguished-looking  man  on  the 
platform,  bearing  an  important  message,  had  whetted 
a  curiosity  in  all  the  throng.  A  deep  silence  was 
enforced.  John,  struggling  less  against  the  crowd 
than  to  preserve  some  semblance  of  calm,  so  that  his 

288 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

bosom  enemy  might  not  attack  him,  consciously  strove 
to  speak  in  quiet,  conversational  tones. 

"  When  I  came  down  town  this  morning,"  he  went 
on,  "I  passed  the  Alpha  factory.  Do  you  know  what 
was  happening  in  their  office?  " 

He  paused  again.  Here  and  there  the  question 
was  swiftly  translated  into  another  language.  Then 
came  breathless  silence,  and  John's  answer : 

"The  Board  of  Directors  was  praying  you  might 
do  just  what  you're  going  to  do — come  uptown  and 
start  a  riot !  And  they're  praying  the  same  prayer  this 
morning  at  the  Pioneer,  and  the  Columbia,  and  the 
Patapsco.  It's  the  one  chance  the  factories  have  to 
win,  and  when  I  finish,  you'll  go  straight  out  and 
make  them  a  present  of  it.  Talk  about  playing  into 
their  hands !  Don't  you  suppose  the  stockholders  are 
getting  restless  at  seeing  the  factories  lose  money? 
They  don't  care  how  the  lock-out  ends;  they  want 
dividends.  The  directors  are  praying  for  something 
to  end  the  trouble;  a  little  riot — ^police — militia,  may- 
be— and  then  the  end.  That's  what  always  happens 
when  you  try  violence.  The  big  public — neither  very 
rich  nor  very  poor — forgets  what  the  fight  was  about. 
It's  against  the  man  with  the  knife  in  his  hand.  It 
wants  him  punished.  And  what  the  big  public  wants, 
sooner  or  later  it  gets. 

"You  don't  have  to  lose  this  fight — Shapiro  or 
no  Shapiro.     If  you  can  hold  out  till  the  Court  of 

289 


THE  CONQUEST 

Appeals  passes  on  your  case,  the  lock-out  will  end — 
that  is,  if  you  gain  the  decision.  The  directors  won't 
stand  out  against  the  Court's  opinion.  The  stock- 
holders won't  let  them.  The  public  pressure  will  be 
too  strong. 

"  Now  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  work  along  till 
then,  and  to  win  your  case.  Can  you  do  it?  No! 
You  can't!  Not  by  yourselves.  But  /  can  do  both 
these  things  for  you.  Maybe  you  don't  know  me. 
My  name's  John  Howard.  You've  heard  of  me.  I 
have  managed  bigger  things  than  this  lock-out  and 
managed  them  better  than  Shapiro — or  Lormer, 
either.  I  can  finance  your  Union  if  I  have  to.  I've 
got  all  the  money  I  need.  But  I'm  a  business  man. 
I  shall  make  you  do  your  own  share.  And  I  can  win 
your  case.  Maybe  some  other  lawyer  couldn't.  I 
can;  and  I'm  the  man  who's  going  to  argue  it.  Per- 
haps you  don't  trust  me,  because  I'm  rich,  but  if  I 
take  this  job,  I  shall  work  with  Dr.  Gilmor,  whom  you 
all  do  know  and  trust. 

"  Now  make  your  choice !  Lormer  offers  you 
failure  and  one  day  of  smashing  heads.  I  offer  you 
success  and  a  lifetime  of  better  wages.  Lormer  wants 
to  end  your  Union,  and  I  want  to  save  it.  He  wants 
to  go  to  prison  for  you,  and  with  you,  while  your 
wives  sit  home  grieving,  and  maybe  starving.  Fm 
willing  to  win  your  case  for  you  and  bring  you  safe 
out  of  all  your  troubles.    This  is  the  minute  for  you 

290 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

to  make  up  your  minds.  I  made  a  success  and  a  few 
odd  millions  by  never  giving  any  man  the  same  op- 
portunity twice.  I  shan't  begin  changing  my  rules 
with  you.  If  you  choose  wrong,  I'll  save  a  lot  of 
worry  and  a  year's  income.  Go  off  with  Lormer  if 
you  like!  But  you'll  find  I'm  a  man  of  my  word. 
What  I  promise,  I  can  do,  and  I  will.  And  when  I 
threaten,  I  never  change  my  mind.  If  you  go  into 
this  game  with  me,  you'll  play  it  my  way — absolutely, 
all  the  time,  and  with  no  questions.  You've  got  nothr 
ing  to  lose  and  everything  to  gain.  I've  got  a  reputa- 
tion for  doing  my  jobs  right,  and  I  got  it  by  taking 
very  little  advice. 

"  Now  then,  you  know  what  you  can  expect.  If 
you  don't  want  what  I  offer  you,  Mr.  Lormer  is  wait- 
ing. His  line  forms,  you  remember,  in  the  street — 
just  outside  the  hall !  *' 


VIII 

John's  punishment  for  his  reckless  violation  of 
medical  orders  began  before  the  cheering,  which  fol- 
lowed his  speech,  had  died  aw^ay.  Amid  the  wave  of 
exultation  of  the  crowd,  deliriously  happy  at  finding 
the  hour  of  defeat  suddenly  transformed  into  one  of 
promised  victory,  there  were  not  a  few — more  ob- 
servant than  their  fellows — who  noticed  the  strange 
behavior  of  Mr.  Howard  and  the  manner  in  which 
Dr.  Gilmor  and  a  few  of  her  friends  had,  shortly 
afterward,  assisted  him  to  leave  the  hall. 

As  he  lay,  shattered  and  exhausted,  on  the  couch 
in  the  little  committee  room,  which  opened  off  from 
the  platform,  he  betrayed  not  the  slightest  sign  of 
regret.  The  hideous  pain  was  gone  now,  and  he  had 
not  died,  as  Margaret  had  for  one  frenzied  minute 
believed  he  would.  He  was,  in  spite  of  his  utter  col- 
lapse, triumphant. 

Margaret  blamed  herself  unsparingly  for  having 
allowed  him  to  subject  himself  to  this  strain.  She 
wondered  greatly,  in  the  intervals  of  ministering  to 
him,  at  the  strange  elements  in  this  man,  who  had, 
after  all  these  years,  been  willing  to  risk  his  life  in 
obedience  to  an  emotion  apparently  at  total  variance 
with  the  whole  trend  of  his  prior  thought  and  action. 

But  the  most  curious  part  of  it  all  was  still  to  be 
292 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

revealed  to  her.  As  the  ravages  of  his  attack  grad- 
ually became  less  evident,  the  impulse  he  had  followed 
lost  none  of  its  strength.  When  he  was  sufficiently- 
recovered,  he  gave  Margaret  the  most  precise  orders 
for  his  care — in  curious  contrast  to  his  former  con- 
tempt for  his  safety.  He  told  her  to  send  a  message 
for  Thomas,  who  would  still  be  waiting  with  the 
limousine  near  her  office.  He  wished  to  be  carefully 
assisted  to  his  home.  He  would  remain  in  bed  an 
entire  week.     He  would  take  no  more  risks. 

"  r.ve  got  a  job  on  hand,"  he  told  her,  with  a 
faint  smile.  "  Vm  not  going  to  die  till  Fve  finished  it 
to  my  satisfaction." 

She  obeyed  his  commands  without  pausing  to  ar- 
gue with  him.  There  would  be  time  enough  for  that 
in  the  future.  Whatever  might  happen,  he  had,  at 
least,  averted  a  riot.  It  had  been  "  a  man's  job." 
She  understood  more  clearly  the  tremendous  force 
of  the  man.  As  for  his  promises,  she  had  not  been 
sure,  even  while  he  was  speaking,  of  his  entire  good 
faith.  He  had  often  explained  to  her  in  this  past 
month  his  theory  that  a  nice  regard  for  scruples 
might  often  be  more  harmful  than  praiseworthy.  But 
he  appeared  now  to  be  taking  his  words  with  an  abso- 
lute literalness.  Of  course,  they  were  impossible  of 
fulfillment.  He  would  understand  that  clearly  enough 
in  a  few  hours.  He  would  probably,  by  that  time, 
care  very  little  about  carrying  them  into  effect,  even 

293 


THE  CONQUEST 

if  he  could.  He  had  the  best  of  excuses  to  offer. 
If  he  still  felt  an  interest  in  his  brilliant  achievement 
of  the  morning,  he  could  balance  his  account  with 
a  substantial  check. 

Therefore,  she  was  considerably  surprised  next 
morning,  upon  answering  the  ring  of  her  telephone,  to 
hear  the  voice  of  John  Howard,  still  a  little  weak, 
but  extremely  business-like. 

"  Hello,  Margaret,"  the  words  trickled  over  the 
wire  in  a  thin  stream.  *'  This  is  I — ^John.  Can  you 
imderstand  me?  " 

"  I  can,"  she  promptly  answered,  "  and  I  wonder 
at  your  imprudence.  I  am  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
physician.  You  will  please  hang  up  the  receiver  and 
keep  still.  I'll  break  my  resolution,  and  come  out  to 
see  you  this  afternoon." 

"Good!"  he  exclaimed,  "but  I  am  keeping  still. 
I'm  lying  flat  in  bed  at  this  very  minute.  One  of  my 
nurses  is  holding  the  telephone  to  my  mouth.  Are 
you  busy?  " 

"  That  depends,"  she  replied.  "If  you  want 
something  you  oughtn't  to  have,  I'm  too  busy  to  at- 
tend to  it,  otherwise  I'll  find  time." 

"  It's  important,"  he  insisted.  "  Make  sure  you 
get  my  exact  meaning.  I  am  sending  Thomas  down 
for  you  with  the  machine.  He  should  reach  your 
office  in  about  thirty  minutes.  He  will  drive  you  to 
the  banking  house  of  Berg  &  Co.    I've  arranged  with 

294 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

Berg  to  take  care  of  us.  He'll  give  you  a  bag  full  of 
currency.  He  knows  Thomas,  who  will  identify  you. 
You  will  then  be  driven  to  the  headquarters  of  the 
Union.  Get  hold  of  that  little  chap  with  the  stubby 
mustache  who  helped  me  out  of  the  hall  yesterday; 
not  the  old  chap  with  tlie  beard!  He's  too  soft  for 
this  job.    I  want  the  other  one  to  be  my  paymaster." 

Margaret's  amazement  grew  greater  and  greater 
as  she  listened. 

"  I  think  you've  developed  a  mental  disorder,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"HI  have,"  he  retorted  gaily,  "  I  caught  it  from 
your  foreign  friends,  or  maybe  from  Deeming.  He's 
just  left  me,  muttering  incoherent  gibberish.  But  to 
get  back  to  business.  Thomas  will  give  you  a  list 
of  everyone  who's  to  get  money  and  the  exact  amount 
each  one  should  have.  You  tell  this  fellow  who  pays 
off,  if  he  gives  anyone  more  or  less  than  my  list  calls 
for,  he's  got  to  produce  a  signed  order  from  you. 
If  he  can't,  I'll  send  him  to  the  penitentiary.  That's 
all  for  to-day." 

Margaret  caught  her  breath.  *'  Did  all  this  have  to 
be  done  to-day?"  she  inquired  sharply.  "Couldn't 
you  have  waited  till  you  got  some  strength  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  taxing  myself,"  he  assured  her,  "  and  it 
couldn't  wait.  A  dollar  to-day,  before  it's  expected, 
will  look  bigger  than  five,  after  they've  begun  to 
clamor.     And  men  are  more  efficient  on  full  bellies. 

99$ 


THE  CONQUEST 

This  week  they  eat  at  my  expense.  Next  week  every- 
one who  eats  is  going  to  earn  part  of  the  price  of  his 
food.  " 

"  Where  did  you  get  your  Hst?  "  she  asked.  "  How 
do  you  know  it's  right?" 

She  could  hear  his  triumphant  chuckle.  "  Shapiro 
made  it  out  for  me  last  night.  He  had  memoranda 
at  his  home,  but  don't  you  tell  anyone  he's  been  to 
see  me." 

"Oh  John!"  Margaret  exclaimed  reproachfully. 
"  How  could  you  ?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  he  demanded  lightly.  "  He's  a  sta- 
ple commodity,  with  a  fixed  price.  The  Alpha  people 
bought  him  at  one  figure.  I  bought  his  leisure  time  at 
a  higher  one.  I  could  have  had  all  of  him,  but  he 
wouldn't  be  any  good  to  me  in  the  open.  Besides,  I 
like  him  to  take  some  of  the  other  crowd's  money  and 
to  tell  me  what's  going  on  in  their  camp.  He's  an 
interesting  devil,  and  an  observant  one.  I  enjoyed  him 
a  lot  last  night.  I'll  tell  you  about  it  when  I  see  you 
this  afternoon.    Don't  forget  you  promised  to  come !  " 

She  did  come  to  his  home  at  Roland  Park,  not 
only  that  afternoon,  but  several  times  thereafter,  be- 
fore he  was  released  from  his  imprisonment.  Each 
day  he  was  full  of  plans  for  the  conduct  of  the  lock- 
out. He  would  lie  in  bed,  in  perfect  and  uncomplain- 
ing obedience  to  Deeming's  commands,  in  all  respects, 
except  that  he  kept  the  telephone  wires  hot  with  com- 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

mands,  and  he  was  in  daily  consultation  with  men 
he  sent  for  to  take  charge  of  one  detail  or  another. 
Margaret  herself  was  constantly  being  pressed  into 
service.  Curiously  enough,  to  her  mind,  he  used  very 
few  of  the  garment  workers  in  carrying  out  his  plans. 
His  men  were  native  Americans,  obeying  his  orders 
most  unsentimentally  for  an  ample  cash  consideration. 

One  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  the  mass-meet- 
ing, when  John  was  again  well  enough  to  be  sitting 
up  in  a  Morris  chair  in  his  room,  Margaret  came  to 
his  home,  determined  to  put  an  end,  once  and  for  all, 
to  this  dangerous  activity.  She  pulled  off  her  gloves 
deliberately,  sat  down  and  faced  him. 

"  Now  look  here,  John,"  she  began,  in  her  vigor- 
ous manner.  "  I've  let  you  alone  all  week,  because  I 
thought  it  would  do  you  more  harm  .to  be  argued  with, 
than  to  have  your  own  way.  But  now  you're  better, 
and  can  listen  to  reason.  I  want  to  know  what  you're 
trying  to  do  and  to  force  you  to  stop  doing  it.  Deem- 
ing's  been  'phoning  me  every  day  to  urge  me  to  control 
you.     He  imagines  I  can.     Now  what  about  it?" 

John  smiled  at  her  tolerantly.  "  You  heard  what 
I  was  going  to  do  that  morning  at  the  Union  head- 
quarters. I'm  going  to  argue  that  appeal  and  win 
it.  I'm  also  going  to  keep  the  Union  alive  until  the 
Court  hands  down  its  opinion.     It's  simple,  isn't  it?  " 

"  It's  simple  madness,"  she  answered.  "  If  you 
■yvant  to  give  money  to  the  Union,  there's  no  harm  in 

297 


THE  CONQUEST 

that.  It's  your  money,  and  you've  enough  of  it  to 
please  yourself.  But  as  for  the  appeal,  you  can  see 
how  impossible  your  idea  is.  And  it's  the  same  about 
managing  the  lock-out.  Every  time  you  let  yourself 
get  excited,  you  get  into  trouble." 

He  nodded.  "  But  Vm  not  going  to  get  excited 
again  imtil  the  argument  at  Annapolis,"  he  explained. 
"  I  don't  intend  meeting  your  volatile  friends  any 
more.  I'm  going  calmly  to  outline  policies  to  my  very 
competent  assistants,  who  will  care  for  the  ways  and 
means,  and  treat  the  whole  matter  as  though  it  were 
an  ordinary  battle  for  some  business  advantage.  I 
shall  find  some  quiet  place  for  my  headquarters,  on 
the  edge  of  the  business  district,  but  outside  of  the 
strike  area.  No  one  but  those  in  my  confidence  are 
to  know  its  location.  There  I  shall  quietly  receive 
reports  and  issue  instructions.  My  plans  are  exceed- 
ingly few  and  direct.  Trained  advertising  men  are  to 
prepare  daily  statements  for  the  press  of  our  side  of 
the  whole  quarrel — temperate,  convincing  arguments, 
without  any  passion  in  them;  not  the  sort  af  stuff  a 
fellow  like  Shapiro  would  put  out.  There'll  be  no 
germs  of  future  law-suits  in  them.  The  locked-out 
men  and  women  are  going  to  be  put  to  work  making 
souvenirs  of  the  labor  war, — little  inexpensive  articles, 
which  we'll  sell,  by  means  of  travelling  men,  to  every 
Union  sympathizer  in  the  country,  for  five  times  what 
they're  worth.     That  will  pay  some  of  the  expenses, 

298 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

keep  the  men  from  getting  into  mischief,  and  help  to 
keep  alive  the  national  sentiment  against  the  factories 
our  advertisements  will  create. 

"  And  all  the  time  I  shall  be  quietly  at  headquarters, 
like  a  spider  in  the  middle  of  its  web.  I  shall  rest 
methodically  every  day,  according  to  Deeming's  direc- 
tions, see  no  one  till  he  has  purged  all  the  excitement 
from  his  message,  and  in  a  leisurely  fashion  prepare 
myself  for  the  argument  of  the  appeal." 

He  wasn't  seeking  approval  of  his  scheme.  He 
was  merely  sharing  his  ideas  with  her.  In  every  sen- 
tence there  was  conveyed  a  fixed  determination  to 
proceed  without  hesitation,  whether  she  acquiesced  or 
not.  Nevertheless,  she  could  not  abandon  her  duty 
of  making  some  attempt  to  swerve  him  from  his 
purpose. 

"John,"  she  urged,  "  youVe  usually  the  most 
clear-sighted  of  men.  You  aren't  the  sort  to  delude 
yourself.  Can't  you  see  the  absolute  impossibility  of 
arguing  that  case?  You  saw  it  before — the  first  day 
you  talked  to  Dr.  Deeming." 

"  Things  are  different  now,"  he  said  decisively. 

"How  different?"  she  repeated,  compelled  to 
frankness  by  his  obstinacy.  "  They're  not  better. 
You  like  to  face  facts ;  you've  got  to  realize  you*  can't 
keep  on  having  attacks  like  you  have  had,  and  getting 
back  into  your  stride  a  week  afterwards." 

299 


THE  CONQUEST 

Her  sorrowful  face  left  no  doubt  of  the  full 
meaning  behind  her  words. 

He  smiled  at  her,  as  though  trying  to  console  her 
for  any  unhappiness  she  might  feel;  as  though  he 
himself  had  no  interest  in  the  matter,  except  to  spare 
her  as  much  as  he  might. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  have  another  attack  imtil  the 
day  of  the  argument,"  he  stated  confidently.  "  I  shall 
take  care  of  myself  like  a  neurasthenic.  I  memorized 
every  rule  for  guarding  myself.  When  I  argue  the 
case,  I  shall  expect  a  heart  spasm.  I  imagine  it  will 
end  things.  Fm  counting  on  it  to  do  so.  In  all  these 
years,  I  never  have  managed  to  reach  the  climax  of 
any  case  without  becoming,  in  secret,  tremendously 
excited.  That's  my  nature.  Certainly  it  won't  be 
different  in  a  case  like  this;  but  it  won't  matter  then. 
On  the  contrary,  it  will  help.  If  I  should  die  while 
making  this  plea,  there  will  be  an  irresistible  sentiment 
working  on  the  emotions  of  the  judges.  Our  case, 
would  be  won  before  they  entered  their  consultation 
room." 

She  stared  at  him  as  though  she  hardly  grasped  his 
meaning.  He  was  using  his  own  death  as  an  integral 
factor  in  his  schemes ! 

"  John,"  she  said,  struggling  desperately  to  pre- 
serve her  composure  and  to  save  him  any  emotional 
fatigue.  "  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  Why  are  you 
doing  this  thing?     It's  deliberate  suicide !  " 

300 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

''  You  ought  to  understand,"  he  told  her.  "After 
all  this  search,  I've  chanced  on  an  enthusiasm — *  an 
enthusiasm  stronger  than  the  fear  of  death.'  They 
were  your  own  words.  And  it  feels  good.  I've  got 
something  I  can  do.  I  don't  think  anyone  else  could 
do  it,  and  it's  all  the  bigger  because  dying  at  the  end  is 
a  necessary  part  of  it." 

"  But  why,"  was  her  bewildered  query,  "  should 
this  particular  thing  move*  your  enthusiasm?  You 
don't  care  about  these  garment  workers.  You  think 
they're  in  misery,  because  they're  unfit.  You've  said 
so  a  thousand  times.  Why  are  you  going  to  throw 
your  life  away  for  them?" 

"  I  can't  put  it  into  words,"  he  responded,  with 
an  odd  light  in  his  eyes.  "  It's  not  for  them.  It's 
for  myself, — though  I  do  care  what  becomes  of  them 
now,  because  I've  made  them  my  proteges.  Some  of 
it,  I  think,  is  just  sheer  joy  of  dying  in  a  fair,  hot 
fight,  won  by  my  own  strength  against  heavy  odds, 
in  a  battle  where  my  untrained  army  would  be  crushed, 
were  it  not  for  me.  And  part  of  it  is  the  happiness 
of  putting  one's  death  to  an  efficient  use — not  letting 
it  be  mere  waste.  And  maybe,  on  the  other  hand, 
it's  nothing  better  than  a  desire  to  feel  and  use  my 
power  down  to  the  last  second  of  consciousness.  I 
don't  know  if  I  can  make  you  see  it,  but  somehow,  it 
makes  me  really  happy.  I'm  through  with  drifting. 
I  feel  I'm  in  command  once  more,  not  only  of  these 

301 


THE  CONQUEST 

men,  but  of  fate  itself.  I  can  even  force  death  to 
serve  my  v^ill." 

He  paused  before  adding  more  gently.  "  Perhaps, 
Margaret,  part  of  it  is  my  desire,  at  the  end  of  the 
journey,  to  stand  side  by  side  with  you  in  my  last 
fight." 

She  made  a  final  desperate  effort  to  blunt  his  pur- 
pose. If  he  v^ere  doing  this  thing  for  her  sake,  she 
would  speedily  kill  the  roots  of  his  impulse. 

"  You  shan't  stand  by  my  side,"  she  said  huskily, 
but  with  evident  decision.  *'  I  won't  do  anything,  now 
or  hereafter,  to  encourage  you.  If  you  won't  drop 
out  of  this  fight,  I  shall.  What  you  plan  is  positively 
imrporal.  My  duty  is  to  conserve  life,  not  to  destroy 
it" 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  see  you  quit  in  the  middle 
of  a  battle,  Margaret,"  was  his  grave  reproof.  "  It 
doesn't  sound  like  you.  As  for  what  I'm  doing,  it's 
what  your  inner  soul  approves.  I  appeal  from  the 
Doctor  Gilmor  of  to-day  to  the  Margaret  of  last 
month.  It's  the  graduate  of  the  Hopkins  Medical 
School  who  has  just  spoken,  not  yourself.  But  even 
if  you  deserted  me,  I  would  go  straight  on  with  the 
work  I've  fotmd  to  do.  Nothing  in  life  can  stop  me 
— nor  death — not  even  you." 

"  Then  you're  not  doing  it  partly  because  of  me !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  You !  "  he  repeated  thoughtfully.  "  You're  a 
302 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

composite  creature  to  me,  Margaret.  As  you  sit  there 
m  my  chair,  or  at  your  office,  that's  not  all  of  you. 
Another  Margaret  is  still  in  the  dingy  old  dining- 
room  on  Hollins  Street,  seated  in  front  of  a  coal  stove, 
pouring  tea,  telling  me  I  should  some  day  put  my 
power  to  use  in  serving  men  and  women,  too  weak  to 
help  themselves.  I  didn't  believe  it  was  sense  then. 
I  don't  with  my  mind  believe  it  now.  It  was  all  a 
beautiful  unreal  dream,  and  Fve  been  aching  some- 
how over  its  beauty  ever  since.  I  had  to  spend  my 
life  the  way  I  did.  I  wasn't  made  for  sleep  and  dream- 
ing. But  at  the  end,  I'd  like  to  make  believe,  just  for 
a  minute,  that  it  was  all  true." 

Her  lashes  were  suspiciously  moist,  as  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  his. 

''John,"  she  pleaded,  "once  in  those  days  you 
hurt  me  very  cruelly.  You  went  off  to  your  work 
without  a  word  to  tell  me  why  you  left  me,  and  yet 
you  knew  I  loved  you.  I  was  too  proud  then  to  ask 
you  not  to  go.  I'm  not  too  proud  now.  Don't  throw 
your  life  away!  If  I  ever  said  anything  else  to  you, 
I  was  wrong.  What  can  we  know  of  the  great  issues 
of  right  and  wrong?  All  we  can  be  sure  of  is  simple, 
warm,  human  affection.  I  want  you  to  stay!  You 
won't  fail  me  a  second  time,  John?  " 

He  raised  her  hand  reverently  to  his  lips.  Then 
he  faced  her  gravely. 

"  Margaret,"  he  said,  "  when  I  went  away  from 
303 


THE  CONQUEST 

you  that  night,  I  did  it  because  I  suddenly  discovered 
it  was  my  destiny  to  hew  my  way  through  Hfe  giving 
wounds  to  everyone  who  stood  in  my  path.  I  knew 
my  mode  of  life  would  make  you  miserable.  I  knew 
your  distress  would  spoil  my  work,  and  I  chose  that 
both  of  us  should  suffer  the  one  swift  pang,  rather 
than  long  years  of  misunderstanding  and  disillusion- 
ment. Never  before,  or  afterward,  have  I  suffered 
as  I  did  the  night  I  bade  you  that  curt  good-bye.  I 
knew  what  you  were  enduring  too.  And  to-day,  after 
all  these  years,  when  I  am  done  for  and  ready  to  die, 
I  have  no  choice  but  to  deny  again  what  you  ask  of 
me.  I  must  follow  the  force  that  has  always  driven 
me  on,  and  will  drive  me  on  to  the  end.  Yet  I  loved 
you  then,  Margaret.     I  love  you  now." 

"  You  didn't  love  me  then,"  she  said  softly. 
"  You  believed  you  did ;  you've  thought  so  all  these 
years.  But  I  wasn't  the  thing  you  loved.  I  was  part 
of  your  egotism,  a  feminine  trophy  of  your  tremen- 
dous force — pleasant  to  walk  with,  charming  to  talk 
with,  pleasing,  too,  to  look  upon.  I  was  pretty  when 
I  was  nineteen,  before  I  grew  tired  and  old  and  care- 
woi:n — wasn't  I,  John?" 

She  seemed,  in  all  her  distress  over  his  grim  pur- 
pose and  her  own  dead  youth,  to  smile  sadly  at  the 
memory  of  the  winsome  girl,  who  was  once  herself. 

"  No,"  he  surprised  her  by  answering  sharply, — 
adding,  as  she  looked  up.    "  You  were  beautiful — not 

304 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

pretty.  But  to-day,  you  have  all  that  beauty  and 
more;  you  have  added  all  that  strength  of  purpose 
and  courage  of  heart  can  give  to  a  face  which  was 
fovely,  even  without  them." 

"  John,  John,"  she  answered,  with  no  effort  to 
conceal  her  happiness  in  his  praise.  "  You  speak  of 
my  soul  and  forget  my  wrinkles;  the  boy  of  twenty- 
four  wouldn't  find  me  pretty  as  I  am  to-day.  It's 
the  man  of  forty-five  who  can  still  discover  my  faded 
charms." 

"  It's  not  true,"  he  insisted  stoutly,  "  but  if  it 
were,  what  matter,  since  I'm  forty-five,  and  no  longer 
twenty-four?  If  you  were  to-day  the  unfledged,  un- 
tried girl  of  nineteen,  I  should  miss  in  your  face  what 
I  love  to  see  there  now.  I  love  you,  Margaret,  and 
vou  know  it !  " 

"  Then  why  don't  you  do  what  I  ask  ? "  she 
Ipleaded,  returning  to  her  theme. 

"  If  I  could,"  he  replied  gently,  "  I  wouldn't  be 
John  Howard.  If  you  care  for  me,  you  don't  want 
the  affection  of  a  strange  man.  I  couldn't  last  long, 
anyhow.  You  know  that.  Help  me  to  pour  into  these 
last  six  weeks  of  life  enough  of  happiness  and  pur- 
pose to  make  up  for  all  we've  missed,  and  help  me, 
without  repining,  to  end  them  with  a  great  triumph." 

A  silence  fell  between  them. 

"Will  you  do'  it?"  he  demanded,  suddenly  look- 
ing full  into  her  eyes.     She  hesitated,  moved  in  the 

30s 


THE  CONQUEST 

same  instant  with  solemn  happiness  and  poignant 
grief.  She  was  sure  the  love  she  had  cherished  all 
these  long  years  was  fully  returned,  only  to  know  of 
its  brief  span.  Her  heart  sang  with  joy,  even  while 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  she  promised,  as  though  she  were  par- 
taking of  a  sacrament. 


IX 

Very  early  on  the  morning  of  the  day  set  for  the 
argument  of  the  garment-workers'  case  in  the  Court 
of  Appeals,  John's  motor  stopped  at  Margaret's  door. 
She  had  been  waiting  on  the  sidewalk,  and  with  a 
tremulous  word  of  greeting,  she  entered  the  car  and 
seated  herself  beside  him.  It  had  been  his  whim,  on 
this  last  morning,  to  drive  through  the  city,  whose 
aspect  he  had  changed  so  materially,  and  to  cast  a 
swift  glance  of  farewell  upon  the  scenes  of  his  battles. 
He  wanted  Margaret  to  be  with  him.  He  had  seen 
Arthur  Chase  the  day  before,  and  talked  with  him 
casually  and  pleasantly,  letting  slip  no  hint  of  the 
catastrophe  to  which  he  looked  forward.  He  had 
borrowed  the  key  of  the  office,  which  was  once  his 
own,  but  was  now  Cushing's,  and  last  night,  with 
Margaret  beside  him,  he  had  looked  long  and  thought- 
fully out  into  the  night,  upon  the  city  he  had  spent  his 
life  in  conquering,  and  holding  as  his  prize.  This 
morning,  he  had  placed  in  the  hands  of  Thomas  a 
minute  series  of  instructions,  and  with  no  hesitation, 
therefore,  the  machine  swung  westward  till  it  reached 
and  passed  the  confines  of  the  business  district,  and 
came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  the  little  old  boarding  house 
on  Hollins  Street,  where  John  and  Margaret  had  first 
met.    It  seemed  tiny  and  dingy  to  them  now.    They 

307     * 


THE  CONQUEST 

wondered  silently  what  manner  of  youths  and  maidens 
lived  within  its  walls  and  how  life  was  scheming  to 
deal  with  each  of  them.  As  they  sat  watching,  the 
door  opened,  and  a  young,  vigorous  man  swung  him- 
self down  the  steps  and  out  into  the  early  morning. 
It  was  his  turn  now.  The  faithless  city,  like  the  heart- 
less coquette  she  was,  might  lure  him  too,  into  spend- 
ing his  days  in  winning  her  and  striving  to  keep  her 
constant,  only,  when  his  strength  should  wane,  to 
fling  herself  with  a  radiant  smile  into  the  arms  of  a 
new  master. 

Thence  they  drove  past  the  Twelfth  National 
Bank — not  the  structure  which  had  stood  on  the  same 
spot  that  day  when  John,  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  had 
saved  himself  by  seizing  the  hand  of  Hilda, — but  a 
tall  and  imposing  building,  which  John  Howard  him- 
self had  caused  to  arise  there  after  the  Great  Fire. 
And  next  they  reached  the  city  offices  of  the  Monu- 
mental Cotton  Duck  Company, — and  soon  after  the  old 
rooms  on  Lexington  Street,  where  "Howard  &  Chase'* 
had  worked  and  planned  during  the  days  before  John 
had  realized  his  dazzling  ambitions.  They  then 
passed  the  great  gray  pile  of  the  Atlantic  Trust  & 
Deposit  Company,  once  Cameron's,  then  John's,  now 
alas,  Flaxman's.  Soon  they  were  on  their  way  to 
Mt.  Vernon  Place,  where  John  could  pause  and  bring 
back  to  his  memory  the  scent  of  the  spring  night, 
when  he  had  stolen  Hilda*s  love;  and  so  they  passed 

308 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

from  place  to  place,  each  with  its  intimate  thread  of 
reminiscence,  binding  his  heart  to  the  spot,  each  help- 
ing to  make  up  the  great  fabric  of  his  passion  for 
the  city — the  city  he  had  sworn  to  dominate,  be  the 
cost  what  it  might.  "A  sentimental  journey,"  he  had 
called  it,  half -mocking  the  emotions  he  had  made  no 
effort  to  curb. 

At  the  end  of  its  wide  detour,  the  car  turned  east 
again  on  Baltimore  Street,  to  the  hall  where  the  pent- 
up  sentimentalism  of  John's  nature,  despised  by  him 
during  all  his  working  years,  had  suddenly  burst  its 
bonds  and  taken  control  of  him.  Then  they  passed 
once  more  Margaret's  home  on  Albemarle  Street,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  were  beyond  the  limits  of  the  city — 
John's  city — crossing  the  long  bridge  over  the  river, 
on  their  way  toward  Annapolis. 

He  looked  back  at  the  familiar  outlines  in  pensive 
silence.  There  was  no  quarter  on  which  his  eye  rested 
which  did  not  bear  some  mark  of  his  hand  and  brain. 
Yet  in  its  streets,  men  and  women  were  doing  the  same 
things,  saying  the  same  words,  quailing  before  the 
same  terrors,  as  before  his  coming.  He  had  wrought 
some  change  in  everything,  except  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

In  all  this  time  barely  a  word  had  been  spoken. 
Each  was  busy  with  silent  thoughts,  but  as  the  car 
rushed  swiftly  through  the  placid  country  side,  John's 
memories  returned  from  the  images  of  by-gone  years^ 

309 


THE  CONQUEST 

to  those  of  the  present  and  to  Margaret.  He  caught 
her  hand  tightly  in  his  own  and  said  gently  and 
thankfully: 

"  Fve  been  wonderfully  happy,  Margaret !  Haven't 
you?'' 

She  nodded  assent,  afraid  to  trust  herself  to  speak. 

Nor  were  they  merely  cheating  themselves  into  this 
belief,  each  trying,  in  hidden  sorrow,  to  soothe  the 
other's  pain.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  suspended 
sword,  they  had  found  a  marvellous,  though  all  too 
brief  joy — not  the  tempestuous  happiness  of  youthful 
passion,  nor  the  unrestrained  gaiety  of  mere  pleasure 
seeking,  but  the  calm  serenity  of  two  natures,  each  of 
which  sought  peace  and  simple  companionship,  after 
years  of  restlessness  and  reticence. 

For  John,  especially,  it  was  an  oasis  in  the  desert 
of  a  bleak  and  lonely  life.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
recollections,  his  days  had  been  free  from  struggling. 
He  had  plotted  no  scheme  for  personal  advancement, 
the  success  of  which  would  be  a  mere  prelude  to 
another  series  of  complexities.  Living  had  grown  to 
be  a  matter  of  clean-cut,  definite  outlines,  stretching 
out  to  a  purposeful  conclusion.  Its  fever  had  passed 
away.  There  was  the  lock-out  to  be  thought  of  and 
the  appeal,  it  was  true,  but  the  course  in  each  of  these 
matters  was  already  mapped  out;  most  of  the  details 
could  be  trusted  to  the  strong  hands  of  his  lieutenants ; 
he  had  little  to  do  but  to  await  a  successful  outcome, 

310 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

and  of  this  he  never  entertained  a  single  doubt.  He 
could  give  himself  up  completely,  and  without  reserve, 
to  the  calm  happiness  of  knowing  Margaret  was  with 
him;  of  long  talks  with  her,  devoted  to  thoughts  of 
themselves  and  their  lives,  and  where  fate  had  dealt 
harshly  with  them,  and  above  all,  to  the  never-ending 
and  never-solved  discussion  of  the  purpose  of  all  the 
storm  and  stress  they  had  endured,  and  through  which 
all  the  children  of  men,  born  like  themselves  of  women, 
must  also  pass. 

John  had  his  duties  in  connection  with  the  labor 
war  and  the  appeal,  and  Margaret  would  not  abandon 
her  patients,  but  their  hours  of  separation  only  gave 
an  added  tang  to  the  moment  when  they  could  meet 
again,  and  read  and  talk  and  think  together.  Each 
day  was  made  into  some  sort  of  holiday.  They  would 
visit  together  the  quaint  places  of  the  city,  known  per- 
fectly well  to  each,  but  which  both  enjoyed  seeing  anew 
through  the  other's  eyes.  They  made  long  expeditions 
in  the  automobile  through  the  snow-clad  hills  and 
mountains  of  Western  Maryland.  They  devised  and 
executed  a  score  of  plans  for  delightful  celebrations 
of  imaginary  anniversaries  of  pretended  happenings 
in  the  joint  life  they  had  never  realized. 

But  what  seemed  best  of  all  to  John  was  the  free- 
dom from  constraint,  the  intimate  comradeship  which 
left  him  free,  after  all  these  years  of  cold  reticence, 
to  open  his  mind  and  heart  freely  to  this  dear  com- 

^11 


THE  CONQUEST 

panion,  in  perfect  confidence  of  her  sympathy,  even 
when  she  could  not  accept  his  views. 

To  him  it  all  made  up  part  of  a  beautiful  idyl — a 
solemn  and  melodious  epilogue  to  his  troubled  life. 

Margaret,  true  to  her  promise,  did  not  spoil  it 
with  weak  repinings  over  the  rapidly-approaching  con- 
clusion. If,  in  the  solitude  of  the  nights,  her  heart  was 
torn  with  grief  because  of  the  parting  which  could  not 
be  long  delayed,  the  traces  of  her  vigils  were  hidden  in 
the  hours  they  spent  together. 

At  first,  he  had  been  somewhat  concerned  lest  their 
constant  association  might  cause  the  breath  of  slander 
to  do  Margaret  some  injury.  For  himself,  he  was 
beyond  caring  what  people  thought  of  him.  But  she 
thrust  the  idea  from  her  with  a  proud  disdain.  Her 
own  people,  among  whom  she  lived  and  worked,  would 
believe  no  evil  of  her,  and  as  for  the  others,  it  was  not 
worth  losing  one  minute  of  their  precious  weeks  to 
avoid  their  silly  gossip. 

Nevertheless,  one  thing  did  cause  her  serious 
anxiety.  That  was  the  thought  of  Hilda.  It  seemed 
to  her,  as  she  tried  to  put  herself  in  the  place  of  John's 
wife,  harsh  and  cold  of  him  to  neglect  completely  any 
provision  for  a  final  talk  with  her — an  opportunity  to 
explain,  each  to  the  other,  how  their  paths  had  gone 
asunder,  and  to  exchange  at  the  last,  comprehension 
and  forgiveness.  Again  and  again,  she  had  begged 
John  to  send  for  Hilda,  who  had  left  Palm  Beach  and 

312 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

was  now  at  Asheville.  He  was  not  to  be  moved.  He 
sent  her  dainty  gifts  from  time  to  time,  telephoned  to 
her  almost  daily,  and  in  these  conversations  twisted  to 
his  own  purpose  such  rumors  of  his  indisposition  as 
drifted  to  her  ears.  She  had  leaped  to  a  plausible  con- 
clusion, as  many  a  keen  business  man  had  also  done, 
regarding  her  husband's  participation  in  the  labor  dis- 
pute. He  was  weaving  the  skeins  of  a  scheme  for 
gaining  control  of  the  entire  garment-making  industry. 
He  fostered  her  delusion  unblushingly,  and  urged  her 
constantly  to  make  the  most  of  her  vacation,  since  he 
was  head  over  ears  in  his  own  pressing  affairs.  Mar- 
garet found  it  difficult  to  understand  this  side  of  the 
man.  He  had  no  conventional  ideas  of  a  death-bed 
repentance.  Hilda  would  be  in  his  way  if  she  returned 
to  Baltimore.  He  didn't  mean  to  have  his  happiness 
marred.  She  would  have  plenty  of  years  to  remold 
her  life  in  any  manner  she  saw  fit.  His  days  were 
limited.  He  realized  he  had  done  her  a  serious  wrong. 
He  was  apparently  regretful,  precisely  to  the  same 
extent  as  he  was  for  the  other  men  or  women  who 
had  been  caught  in  the  cogs  of  his  machines,  but 
seemingly  no  more  so.  Her  life  had  missed  much  of 
breadth  and  fulness,  but  she  had  suffered,  on  the 
whole,  less  than  many  another  worthy  person,  such, 
for  example,  as  Margaret,  or  John  himself;  and  much 
of  her  pain  had  been  her  own  fault.  She  had  wil- 
fully refused  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation,  though 

313 


THE  CONQUEST 

he  had  tried  to  help  her  to  do  it.  She  had  hurt  him 
too.  Not,  he  explained  to  Margaret,  that  he  bore 
malice  any  longer,  but  the  facts  must  not  be  ignored. 
If  she  had  given  him  the  son  he  had  craved,  they 
would  have  found  a  common  interest.  When  disease 
had  laid  its  grip  upon  him,  he  would  then  have  been 
content  to  sit  idly  at  his  hearth-side,  teaching  his  boy 
the  lessons  he  had  learned  of  life.  He  would  not  have 
chafed  at  years  of  invalidism,  or  gone  off  hunting  for 
enthusiasms  other  than  the  love  of  his  own  child.  He 
did  not  say  these  things  in  bitterness.  It  was  as  though 
he  were  discussing  some  other  man's  discordant 
marriage.    But  he  remained  obdurate. 

Margaret  was  unsatisfied,  all  the  more  because  she 
realized  how  each  of  her  hours  was  made  richer  and 
happier  by  the  absence  of  John's  wife.  After  many 
serious  discussions,  a  compromise  was  evolved.  He 
would  write  to  Hilda  a  letter  which  should  explain 
everything,  and  rob  his  neglect  of  her  of  part,  at  least, 
of  its  sting.  This  letter  should  be  given  her  after  his 
death.  He  yielded  to  this  plan,  more  to  please  Mar- 
garet than  because  of  any  appeal  it  made  to  him,  but 
after  he  set  himself  to  the  task,  he  discovered  a  certain 
pleasure  in  brushing  away  the  dainty  cobwebs  of  arti- 
ficiality between  Hilda  and  himself.  It  was  a  truthful 
letter,  and  a  curious  one,  which  he  laid  sealed  in  Mar- 
garet's hands.  He  would  have  shown  its  contents  to 
ber,  but  she  felt  there  would  be  a  serious  indelicacy  in 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

her  intrusion  into  this  final  intimacy  of  husband  and 
wife.  And  this  was  the  letter  which  Margaret  would 
not  read : 

Dear  Hilda : 

When  this  letter  reaches  you,  it  may  cause  you  to  wonder 
why  I  did  not  leave  unbroken  the  silence  into  which  I  shall  then 
have  entered. 

You  will  know,  before  you  open  it,  how  I  died.  They  will  tell 
you  I  anticipated  my  end — even,  in  a  manner,  sought  it.  You 
will  know  of  my  failure  to  send  for  you — my  deliberate  deception 
of  you,  to  put  it  more  frankly,  during  the  months  when  I  knew 
perfectly  well  what  was  before  me.  You  will  have  heard  of  the 
strange  cause  I  fought  for.  Your  friends  and  mine  will  try  to 
hide  their  sneers  when  they  speak  of  it,  and  you  will  have  every 
human  excuse  for  giving  credence  to  sinister  rumors  about  my 
friendship  with  the  woman  from  whom  I  have  drawn  happiness 
and  inspiration  in  these  last  days. 

Perhaps  it  would  have  been  wiser  for  me  to  trust  to  such 
charity  as  you  could  summon,  and  pass  without  wordy  explana- 
tions out  into  the  dark.  I  have,  however,  been  led  to  believe  you 
might  infer  from  my  silence  a  failure  to  think  of  you  at  all.  It 
might  seem  to  you  as  though  I  had  utterly  put  out  of  my  mind 
the  many  memories  of  the  fifteen  years  of  our  marriage.  I  have, 
in  fact,  thought  of  you  long  and  searchingly,  and  I  have  written 
to  you,  so  that  you  may  know  the  things  at  the  bottom  of  my 
mind.  Some  of  what  I  write  may  cause  you  distress.  This  I 
regret  more  sincerely  than  you  can  believe;  at  this  day  I  would 
wish  to  cause  no  more  suffering  to  anyone,  and  certainly  not 
to  you,  who  have  lived  in  patience  beside  me  all  these  years. 
But  I  am  through  with  pretence,  and  I  write  on  the  theory  that 
it  will  bring  you  more  comfort  (or  at  least  less  pain),  to  know 
exactly  why,  since  you  went  South,  I  did  the  things  you  think 
heartless,  than  you  would  feel  if  you  imagined  I  never  cared 
about  your  sensibilities  at  all. 

Let  us  begin  then  with  the  matter  which  will  trouble  you 
most — my  companionship  with  Margaret  Gilmor.  You've  allowed 
yourself  to  become  a  conventional  woman  (it's  partly  my  fault, 

315 


THE  CONQUEST 

I  know,  but  the  result  is  what  we  are  dealing  with),  and  because 
of  your  conventionality,  you  will  take  some  comfort  in  my 
solemn  assurance  that  there  is  not  the  slightest  truth  in  the  par- 
ticular inference,  always  drawn  among  our  acquaintances  when  a 
man  and  a  woman  find  pleasure  in  being  together. 

I  tell  you  this,  as  I  say,  because  I  know  this  definite  knowl- 
edge will  put  an  entirely  different  aspect  upon  your  view  of  my 
conduct.  It  wouldn't  if  I  were  you,  I'm  frank  to  admit.  The 
state  of  mind  and  feeling  lying  behind  an  actual  physical  happen- 
ing is  the  important  part  to  me,  and  so  far  as  my  thoughts  and 
emotions  were  concerned,  if  there  be  any  force  in  the  dogma 
which  teaches  that,  after  marriage,  a  man,  forsaking  all  other 
women,  should  cleave  only  unto  his  wife,  then  I  have  done  you  an 
injury.  And  even  otherwise,  had  I  been  anything  but  a  miser- 
able, broken  reed  of  a  man,  studiously  avoiding  any  and  every 
form  of  excitement,  perhaps — but  had  I  not  been  so,  Margaret 
Gilmor  and  I  would  have  had  no  meetings  and  your  rights  in  me 
would  have  been  safe.  I  should  have  been  rushing  along,  plan- 
ning mergers  and  stock  controls  and  I  should  have  found  only 
contemptuous  disdain  for  a  fanatic  who  pottered  around  nurs- 
ing helpless  incompetents.  Don't  think  I  am  brutal  because  of 
the  way  I  put  these  things.  If  I  didn't  tell  you  the  whole  truth, 
you  couldn't  be  sure  of  the  truth  of  anything  I  am  writing  you. 

I  knew  Margaret  before  I  knew  you — ^before  I  came  to  the 
Bar,  in  fact.  I  was  practically  engaged  to  marry  her.  I  never 
mentioned  her  to  you  before  or  since  our  marriage,  and  there 
again  you  have  reason  to  feel  I  have  done  you  a  wrong.  I  make  no 
denial  of  it.  It  was  part  of  the  larger  injury  I  did  you  when  I 
married  you.  But  it  seemed  a  trifling  part.  I  cut  adrift  from 
her,  because  I  saw  she  would  have  hampered  me  in  my  plans  for 
commercial  and  professional  success.  There  is  no  doubt  she  would 
have  done  so,  but  we  had  been  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  we 
were  only  boy  and  girl.  You  see  I  hurt  her  there.  Both  the 
women  who  have  had  most  effect  on  my  life  have  had  little  joy 
and  much  unhappiness  from  knowing  me.  I  don't  say  this  self- 
accusingly.  I  have  taken  my  share  of  the  pain,  and  I  could  not 
help  being  made  in  my  own  peculiar  mould.  Most  people — men 
as  well  as  women — who  have  dealt  with  me,  have  been  forced 
to  give  much  and  gain  little.  I  had  to  use  them  in  my  work. 

316 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

I  never  saw  Margaret  again,  or  heard  from  her,  till  I  knew 
I  was  going  to  die.  That's  why  there  seemed  no  use  in  mention- 
ing her  to  you. 

As  for  my  marriage,  it  would  be  easy  to  write  in  a  strain  of 
maudlin  self-reproach,  but  it  wouldn't  give  you  a  faithful  pict- 
ure of  my  thoughts.  I  didn't  love  you.  You  would  have  told 
me  this  again  and  again,  if  you  hadn't  thought  it  ill-bred  for 
husband  and  wife  to  indulge  in  accusation  and  recrimination. 
Well,  that  is  truth,  but  it's  only  half  truth.  I  married  you  be- 
cause I  needed  your  father's  name  to  save  me  from  the  absolute 
ruin  of  all  my  plans.  It  was  that,  or  the  complete  wreck  of  my 
life  work.  Remember,  it  wasn't  his  money  I  wanted,  but  only 
to  be  known  for  a  brief  space  as  his  son-in-law.  That,  from  your 
point  of  view,  was  unspeakably  ugly  and  cruel.  I  knew  it,  and  I 
regretted  it  at  the  time,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  if  ever  a  man 
meant  to  deal  gently  and  fairly  with  a  wife,  that  man  was  I ;  and 
I  never  completely  gave  up  trying,  till  the  day  I  settled  you  com- 
fortably in  your  compartment,  on  your  way  to  Palm  Beach.  But 
when  you  had  made  sure  I  lacked  the  romantic  attachment  you 
desired,  you  cast  everything  else  away.  I  meant  to  make  you  a 
full  partner  in  my  plans  and  work.  You  had  the  mind  for  it  in 
those  days,  but  you  wilfully  refused  to  help  it  grow.  You  would 
give  me  nothing  but  patience,  good  manners  and  unfailing  civility. 
Your  conduct  about  children  was  an  index  to  your  whole  attitude. 
Because  of  one  flaw  in  me,  you  balked  my  dearest  scheme  and  with 
it  your  own  happiness.  I  don't  write  these  things  in  a  spirit  of 
anger  or  bitterness.  You're  no  more  to  be  blamed  because  you 
couldn't  be  made  over  to  fit  my  views,  than  I  am  for  my  own 
character.  And  it  was  I  who  drew  you  into  relationship  with  me. 
I  simply  want  you  to  understand  how  things  stood  between  us 
when  I  suddenly  was  told  to  lay  down  all  my  labor  and  get  ready 
to  die. 

Conventionally,  it  was  my  duty  to  send  for  you  or  to  go  to 
you.  Actually,  it  would  have  made  us  both  wretched.  You  would 
have  dutifully  arranged  for  all  my  physical  needs,  my  diet,  my 
rest,  my  motor  drives  and  such  light  exercise  as  the  doctor  mighi 
approve.  You  would  have  chatted  with  me  wittily, — ^let  no  day 
pass  without  some  notable  bit  of  clever  speech.  You  would  have 
insisted   I   was   not   really  making  you  uncomfortable,   and   at 

317 


THE  CONQUEST 

definite  hours  you  would  have  read  to  me  the  stock  market  re- 
ports, or  some  little  new  book  of  Maeterlinck's,  as  my  fancy 
might  dictate.  And  you  would  have  done  these  things  in  all 
gentle  sweetness.  You  must  not  suppose  I  have  not  noticed  how 
hard  you  have  tried  to  do  your  duty  to  me,  and  how  well  you  did 
it.  But  you  do  feel  it  as  a  duty.  Perhaps,  that  makes  your  con- 
duct all  the  more  commendable.  I  don't  know  much  about  moral 
values.  I  can  only  say  what  I  feel.  What  I  wanted  was  to  talk 
about  why  men  slave  like  I  have  done,  and  what  was  the  use 
of  all  the  things  we  spend  ourselves  in  doing.  Most  of  all,  I 
wanted  to  talk  about  death  itself,  and  how  it  was  to  be  fitted  into 
one's  philosophy  of  life.  You  would  have  raised  your  eyebrows, 
but  you  would  have  humored  me.  I  didn't  want  to  be  humored. 
I  wanted  to  find  someone  who  would  look  the  grim  facts  of  exist- 
ence clearly  in  the  eyes.  Before  I  chanced  across  Margaret,  I 
had  decided  I  had  no  right  to  ask  these  things  of  you.  That  was 
a  concession  to  you,  not  a  slur.  If  I  had  been  a  husband  in  the 
full  sense  of  the  word,  I  would  have  felt  it  my  right  to  make  you 
drink  this  potion  with  me.  I  hadn't  been.  Therefore,  it  would 
only  have  sickened  you,  without  giving  me  any  added  comfort. 

After  I'd  heard  my  death  sentence,  I  met  Margaret  again,  not 
by  design,  but  casually,  after  twenty-one  years  of  separation,  and 
I  found  her  willing  to  talk  out  with  me  the  vital  things  of  which 
I  wanted  to  speak,  and  think.  I  chose  to  make  full  use  of  the 
help  she  held  out  to  me,  and  I  have  no  apologies  to  make  for 
doing  it. 

And  my  conduct  about  the  lock-out,  with  its  waste  of  money 
and  its  fool-hardy  risk  at  the  end  to  my  impaired  health  ?  That 
I'm  sure  I  could  never  make  you  understand,  so  I  might  as  well 
spare  the  effort.  It's  subtle.  I  hardly  understand  it  myself.  It 
will  be  easy  for  you  to  believe  I  did  it  because  I  was  infatuated 
by  a  woman,  and  she  used  me  for  her  own  purposes.  You  would 
be  wrong  in  this  simple  solution.  She  begged  me  not  to  do  it. 
I  can  only  put  the  puzzle  into  terms  which  you'd  understand, 
by  saying  I  acted  on  the  same  impulse  which  scandalized  you 
when  your  second  cousin  felt  a  call  to  abandon  his  respectable 
pulpit  and  join  the  outcast  sect,  in  which  he  is  now  so  radiantly 
happy,  and  socially  neglected.  Or  perhaps  I  deceived  myself,  and 
it  is  nothing  better  than  my  old  desire  to  dominate,  even  from 

318 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

the  grave,  a  situation  which  would  baffle  other  men.  Anyhow, 
it  was  an  odd  thing  to  happen  to  me.  But  it  met  my  need;  at 
this  moment  it  still  gives  me  the  same  thrill  I  felt  when,  as  a 
boy,  I  mapped  out  my  plans  for  some  day  holding  the  destiny  of 
the  city  in  my  own  hands.  If  it  can  give  me  such  sensations  in 
the  shadow  of  death,  it  serves  its  purpose,  whether  it  be  wise  and 
good,  or  silly  and  wicked.  A  man  about  to  die  is  given  large  in- 
dulgence, even  though  he  may  have  committed  murder.  The  life 
I  am  giving  up  is  not  linked  with  yours  in  such  communion  that 
I  felt  it  wrong  to  lay  it  down  without  your  consent.  I  am  of 
no  use  to  you.  Perhaps,  I'm  even  a  heavy  burden.  You  will  find 
my  absence  something  of  a  sorrow,  but  then  my  presence  was 
that  too. 

So,  like  two  travellers  who  have  jogged  along  together— not 
always  as  jovially  as  they  might  have  wished — but  not  too  ill- 
naturedly  either,  let  us  part  good  friends.  You  had  great  qualities, 
Hilda;  you  would  have  been  a  wonderful  woman,  perhaps,  if 
you'd  fallen  into  other  company  than  mine,  I'm  sorry  about 
that.  Above  all  things,  I  shrink  from  waste.  But  I  had  to  have 
you.  It  was  a  choice  between  waste  of  you  or  of  me. 

Remember,  too,  you  might  have  chanced  on  a  worse  husband 
than  I,  even  though  he  gave  you  the  love  which  seemed  to  you  all 
important.  He  might  have  done  a  deadlier  thing  than  merely  kill- 
ing, as  I  did,  your  capacity  for  growth ;  he  might  have  dragged 
you  down  to  a  lower  level.  You  will  freely  do  me  the  justice  to 
admit  I  never  did  that. 

You  are  still  young  and  clever  and  distinguished-looking. 
You  will  be  fabulously  rich  now.  There  are  days  of  boundless 
opportunity  before  you.  It  piques  my  curiosity  to  think  I  may 
never  know  how  you  will  deal  with  them.  I  could  deluge  you 
with  advice,  but  I  have  no  right  to  be  sure  I  know  better  than 
you  what  to  do  with  life,  and  even  if  I  did,  no  one  can  follow 
another  man's  instructions,  except  mechanically. 

Therefore,  you'll  find  no  restrictions  upon  you  in  my  Will. 
Except  for  a  few  personal  legacies,  and  the  provision  for  the 
garment  workers,  everything  is  yours,  to  do  with  as  you  please. 
You  can  endow  a  hospital,  or  an  orphan  asylum,  or  a  university, 
if  you  find  pleasure  in  so  doing,  and  there  will  be  no  one  to 
say  you  nay;  you  can  even  give  some  of  the  money  to  your 

319 


THE  CONQUEST 

Church — though  if  there  is  such  a  thing  as  immortality,  I  shall 
make  wry  faces  when  I  see  you  do  it.  Still,  I  don't  urge  you  n< 
to.  Please  yourself.  The  money  is  the  only  thing  I  was  ev< 
able  to  give  you,  so  I  am  glad  there  is  such  a  lot  of  it — enougt 
perhaps,  to  kindle  your  imagination  anew.  It  never  was  muc 
use  to  me.  I  wanted  to  give  some  small  part  of  it  to  Margaret 
Gilmor,  but  she  would  not  have  it. 

I  think  the  two  of  you  might  grow  really  fond  of  each  other, 
if  you,  Hilda,  would  be  big  enough  to  make  the  effort  to  know 
her.  It  would  be  rather  unconventional,  to  be  sure,  but  it  would 
be  worth  while.  You're  both-  unusual  women,  for  all  your  enor- 
mous differences  in  temperament,  and  you've  this  great  memory 
in  common : 

You  have  suffered,  each  of  you,  because  you  loved  me. 

Nor  need  you,  remembering  how  you  did  love  me  once,  feel 
a  pang  of  jealousy,  because  at  the  end  I  found  happiness  with 
her.  I  know  and  she  knows  that  had  I  married  her  in  my  boy- 
hood, as  we  had  planned,  I  should  have  become  estranged  from 
her  more  sharply  than  I  have  from  you.  She  would  have  looked 
on  my  work  with  actual  antagonism,  and  she  would  have  been 
promptly  sacrificed  to  it.  Perhaps,  then,  in  my  last  weeks,  I 
should  have  chanced  across  you,  with  your  illusions  still  un- 
dimmed  by  fifteen  years  of  dull,  gray  marriage,  and  it  would 
have  been  your  strength  from  which  I  drew.   Who  knows  ? 

So  that's  my  story,  Hilda!  I  haven't  told  it,  I  suppose,  as 
winningly  as  it  might  be  written,  but  I've  done  my  best  to  give 
you  the  naked  truth.  One  more  thing  I  ought  to  add,  lest  you 
may  think  I  never  realized  the  full  height  of  your  spirit.  If  I 
had  sent  for  you,  or  gone  to  you,  your  pity  for  me,  suddenly 
stricken  in  the  midst  of  my  success,  might  have  welded  us  to- 
gether again,  were  it  not  for  my  uncontrollable  hatred  of  being 
pitied.  You  would  have  made  advances  to  me  in  a  shy,  reserved 
way,  in  which  I  could  not  have  helped  seeing  a  certain  nobility. 
And  I,  in  blind  fury  at  anyone's  compassion,  even  yours,  would 
have  thrust  you  away,  hurting  you  again,  and  hating  myself  for 
doing  it.  You  see,  I'm  incorrigible. 

And  now,  farewell !  May  all  good  fortune  go  with  you !  If 
my  impersonal  philosophy  is  all  wrong  and  your  rigid  religion 
turns  out  to  be  true,  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  my  mind 

320 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

of  your  God's  indulgent  pardon  for  all  the  harm  I  have  done. 
He  will  not  deal  harshly  with  me  for  obeying  literally  the  im- 
pulse He,  himself,  planted  in  my  nature.  Perhaps,  after  all,  I 
was  doing  His  work ;  and  in  His  own  way,  He  causes  pain  enough 
in  carrying  out  those  plans  of  His  we  can  never  understand. 

I  don't  mean  to  seem  blasphemous.  What  I  was  trying  to 
say  is  this:  You,  with  all  your  finite  shortcomings,  can  surely 
find  it  possible  to  be  no  less  tolerant  than  the  God  you  believe  in. 
Be  tolerant,  then,  when  you  remember  me ! 

Think,  if  you  can,  of  the  beauty  of  the  love  you  bore  me  in 
those  early  days,  Hilda,  and  forget  all  the  later  sadness  and  mis- 
understanding wrapped  about  the  memory  of 

Your  husband, 

John. 

And  now,  having  done  with  Hilda  and  all  other 
things,  save  alone  his  high  purpose  and  his  Margaret, 
John  leaned  back  in  the  car  and  the  silence  was  for  a 
long  time  unbroken,  as  they  speeded  along  toward  the 
goal.  Margaret  was  secretly  indulging  a  hope  of  his 
living  through  the  day's  ordeal  unscathed,  or  only 
slightly  injured.  John,  for  his  part,  neither  expected 
nor  desired  such  an  issue. 

As  they  approached  the  bridge  across  the  Severn 
and  the  spire  of  the  old  State  House  and  the  roof  of 
the  Court  of  Appeals  building  became  visible  against 
the  sky,  Margaret's  stoicism,  for  the  first  time,  sud- 
denly deserted  her.  She  clutched  hysterically  at  John, 
and  sobbed  convulsively. 

"Don't  go.  Let's  turn  back!  Telephone  you're 
sick — get  a  postponement!  Let  Russell  argue  it!  I 
can't  bear  it— I  can't!" 

321 


THE  CONQUEST 

John  put  his  arms  about  her  and  held  her  close  in 
his  embrace. 

"  Don^t  ask  it  of  me,  Margaret,"  he  urged,  almost 
in  entreaty.  "  My  only  fear  is  that  the  end  may  not 
come.  Don't  you  see  this  is  the  close  of  our  wonderful 
happiness,  whether  I  live  or  die  ?  We  filled  these  weeks 
full  to  the  brim,  because  we  knew  it  was  for  so  short 
a  time.  If  we  tried  to  go  back  to  the  dull  routine  of 
existence,  something  clandestine  would  creep  into  our 
lives.  It  would  be  sordid.  All  the  element  of  beautiful 
adventure  would  be  lost.  We've  had  the  best.  If  I 
lived  a  century,  there  could  be  nothing  more;  and  at 
the  end,  I  have  to  die  some  time.  There  will  never  be 
a  day  when  I  can  look  into  the  face  of  death  again 
so  serenely,  and  so  free  from  doubt  or  despair." 

She  hushed  her  sobs  and  dried  her  tears.  She  had 
promised  she  would  do  nothing  to  turn  his  strength  into 
weakness.  She  would  try  to  keep  her  word.  Besides, 
she  could  not  change  his  resolution.  It  should  be  her 
endeavor  not  to  mar  the  exaltation  of  his  mood. 

The  car,  passing  rapidly  by  the  quaint  old  Colonial 
dwellings,  with  their  stately  doorways,  drew  up  sharply 
before  the  flat,  red-brick  building,  which  housed  the 
State's  highest  court.  It  looked  flagrantly  out  of  place 
in  the  ancient  village,  a  bit  of  the  modern  city's  passion 
for  trim  new  efficiency,  set  down  bodily  in  the  heart  of 
this  venerable  pre-Revolutionary  town. 

John  recalled  vividly,  as  he  entered  the  great  lobby, 
322 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

with  its  huge,  white  stairway  on  either  side,  the  day 
of  the  structure's  dedication — the  impressive  address 
made  by  the  man  who  was  then  Chief  Justice,  and  who 
had  long  since  passed  from  the  earth,  living  only  in  the 
dry  pages  of  the  Court's  decisions.  The  sunlight,  on 
that  morning,  just  as  to-day,  had  made  great  pools  of 
crimson  and  purple  on  the  marble  floor,  as  it  shone 
through  the  Great  Seal  of  Maryland,  emblazoned  on 
the  stained  glass  window.  His  whimsical  memory 
reminded  him,  too,  of  the  sprig  of  lily-of-the-valley 
Hilda  had  placed  in  his  coat  lapel,  as  he  went  off  to 
the  ceremony,  "  so  that  no  one  would  know  he  was 
married,"  she  had  said. 

The  rapid  pace  of  the  motor-car  had  brought  them 
to  the  Court  some  minutes  before  the  hour  of  its 
sitting.  It  was  as  John  had  intended.  He  had  desired 
Margaret  not  to  remain  in  the  court-room  during  the 
trial.  The  ordeal  would  be  too  much  for  her.  Nor 
was  there  need  of  it.  Russell  would  be  there,  and 
there  would  also  be  a  young  physician,  Deeming's 
assistant,  to  render  any  aid  which  might  be  possible. 

He  drew  her  then  into  the  shelter  of  a  doorway, 
opening  into  a  clerk's  office,  at  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case, and  just  across  from  the  entrance  leading  into  the 
room  where  he  had  won  many  a  legal  combat,  and 
meant  now  to  win  the  last  and  the  best. 

Her  icy  hand  trembled  in  his  grasp.  The  time  had 
come  for  a  farewell. 

323 


THE  CONQUEST 

"  Margaret,  my  Margaret,"  he  said  in  his  low,  in- 
tense tones.  "  The  day  I  entered  a  court  to  try  my 
first  case,  I  was  thinking  of  you,  planning  how,  when 
the  verdict  was  won,  I  would  come  to  you  with  roses 
and  carry  you  off  to  be  loved  and  cared  for  always; 
and  this  morning,  when  I'm  going  into  that  room  to 
make  my  last  argument,  once  more  all  my  thoughts 
are  of  you  and  my  love  for  you.  At  the  first  and  the 
last,  when  I  was  boyish  and  unspoilt,  and  now,  when 
I  have  thrown  away  all  except  what  seems  true  and 
vital,  my  mind  and  my  heart  have  been  brimming  over 
with  you.  You  will  always  remember  that,  Margaret  ?  '* 

"  I  shall  always  remember,"  she  repeated,  almost  in 
a  whisper. 

"  When  I  try  to  think  back  over  my  life,"  he  mused 
aloud,  "  I  can't  imderstand  why  things  happened  as 
they  did.  Most  of  it  seems  futile  to  me.  How  I 
strove  to  make  the  wheels  go  faster  and  faster!  It 
took  a  lifetime !  It  kept  me  from  you!  No  one  seems 
any  happier  because  of  the  great  speed  we  gained.  Yet 
I  should  have  to  do  it  all  over  again  if  I  were  twenty." 

She  murmured  an  incoherent  word,  to  signify  that 
she  too  found  it  all  a  riddle,  and  he  continued  still  to 
think  aloud: 

"  I  don't  understand  why  I  had  to  have  power, 
[t  wasn't  because  I  used  it  to  give  me  pleasure.  I 
ion't  understand  why,  now  at  the  end,  I  am  intoxicated 
with  the  idea  of  using  my  death  in  the  service  of  men 

324 


THE  SPOILS  OF  BATTLE 

I  know  are  not  my  equals  in  any  way.  I  only 
know  these  things  are.  But  this  too,  I  know:  If  I 
hadn't  used  my  life  to  do  the  things  you  hate,  I  would 
not,  at  its  end,  be  able  to  do  this  deed  you  think  splendid. 
I  would  not  have  gained  the  sagacity  to  manage  the 
men,  or  money  to  fill  the  treasury,  or  skill  to  win  this 
case.  Even  while  I  was  doing  the  things  you  despise, 
I  was  using  and  developing  the  part  of  me  you  love! 
Can  you  make  anything  of  it?  " 

"  Nobody  can,"  she  replied.  "  It's  beyond  all  men. 
That's  why  some  of  us  believe  in  God." 

He  looked  at  her  yearningly. 

"  Such  intense  force  in  me,"  he  murmured.  "  So 
much  of  it  wasted!  Such  power  in  our  love — yours 
and  mine — with  our  dreams  and  hopes  and  sufferings — 
spread  over  all  these  years — so  to  be  ended  with  our 
own  short  lives!  Isn't  it  possible,"  he  asked,  almost 
as  though  he  were  pleading  for  a  boon  she  could  grant 
him,  "  isn't  it  possible  that  somehow — some  way — ^this 
great  force,  this  beautiful  affection,  can  live  again,  be 
put  to  use — perfected — saved  from  utter  annihilation?" 

"  I  believe  it,"  Margaret  answered  fervently. 
"  Say  you  believe  it  too !  " 

While  they  were  speaking,  there  came  from  the 
court-room  the  confusion  of  footsteps  and  voices. 
Through  the  open  door  the  black-gowned  judges  could 
be  seen  filing  toward  their  places  on  the  bench.  A 
bailiff  came  to  the  door  and  beckoned  to  John. 

32s 


THE  CONQUEST 

But  Margaret  clung  to  him,  repeating  her  derqand. 
"  Say  you  believe  it !  " 

Regardless  of  who  might  see,  he  kissed  her  full  on 
the  lips,  and  turning  to  the  door,  smiled  back  on  her — 
not  the  worn,  world- wise  smile  of  the  middle-aged 
financier,  but  the  clear,  enthusiastic  smile  of  the  lost 
boy  come  into  his  own  again  on  this  day  of  days. 

"  It  is  my  hope,  Margaret,"  he  affirmed.  "And 
now  I'm  going  to  make  certain." 

As  he  passed  into  the  court-room,  there  flowed 
into  the  corridor  the  droning  voice  of  the  clerk,  repeat- 
ing his  age-long  formula: 

"  Oyez,  oyez,  oyez !  All  persons  having  business 
with  the  Court  of  Appeals  of  Maryland  will  draw  near 
and  give  their  attention.    The  Honorable  Court  is  now 

FINJS 


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